


A Blessing Reborn

by negativechappy



Category: N/A - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negativechappy/pseuds/negativechappy





	1. Chapter 1

" _Soooo_...the Crystal _belongs_ to the Six?"

Prompto scratched his head, brow furrowed and lips upturned as he considered the idea. He knew the Crystal was important, and powerful. And everyone in Eos knew the king protected it, for the sake of Lucis, and the kingdom prospered in return.

Still, he had never taken a moment to contemplate where exactly the Crystal had _come_ from.

"Exactly." Ignis turned another page in the book he was pouring over, sitting as he was within a self-made nest of similar tomes. It had been Ignis' idea that the group ought to study what exactly Noctis was destined to protect, that they might be a help rather than a tag-along to the Oracle's quest. When it became apparent that Lunafreya was seeking to wake the gods, and in light of their ordeal with the Titan, the man had quickly convinced the group of the need for them to be better prepared.

He'd markedly left out the part where they would spend hours _studying_ though, Prompto noted with disdain, as he returned to the book in front of him.

"The Crystal was gifted to humanity by the Six. That we might prosper without their constant interference. Essentially, the gods gave up control over humanity, and allowed us to control a fragment of their power for our own end." Ignis went onto explain, a touch of sadness in his voice as he spoke, "Apparently, this was a poor choice on their part. We clearly _can't_ be trusted with such power without starting a war..."

"Maybe. Beats praying to the Six and hopin' they agree every time we needed something. Bit of free will and all." Gladio retorted, pulling out another scroll to obediently read, "Can't deny we've done some good with the Crystal too."

"True. But over time, we have clearly tainted the idea with greed."

Ignis' reply set a silence over the camp once more, as the four continued to leaf through and decipher the knowledge they had gathered together. Noctis, however, found his eyes settled on the same point in his book, unseeing and blank to the words printed upon it.

The Crystal belonged to the Six...gifted, along with the Ring of the Lucii. His legacy. His inheritance. His _burden_. Once the ring was passed to him, so too came that overbearing responsibility, to channel the power of the Crystal, the _gods_ , for the good of humanity.

_If he failed..._

His eyes flicked up from the page then, an a horrible vision came over him; his friends, torn to pieces by daemons, or worse...features twisted, warped, as the parasite of the Starscurge overcame them.

The prince's silent terror seemed to alert his adviser, as green eyes observed him quietly over the rim of his glasses. Noctis was grateful that the man did not alert the group to his fears, and instead, shut the book before him with a light _click_.

"I fear we've been up late enough for all this. If we peruse these works any longer, Prompto may be inclined to start _gnawing_ on them..."

Prompto's face lit up with a grin as he got to his feet, stretching out stiff and weary bones.

"Does that mean it's dinner time?" He asked, with more than a hint of hopefulness threading through his words. It earned a slight half-smile from Ignis.

"I suppose."

" _Finally!_ "

The two of them wandered away from the campfire to start preparing the food (or, more accurately, Prompto would hang around Ignis like an overexcited puppy as the other man tried to cook, Noctis thought to himself), and the prince was left with the warrior.

He wasn't sure what phenomenon it was, but Gladiolus seemed to be able to read Noctis' feelings through silence.

"You wanna talk about it?"

The man's gruff voice offered little sympathy across the night air, but Noctis was glad of it. He didn't _want_ sympathy, nor coddling. He wanted answers...he wanted _truth_. And no one was more apt to tell him straight than Gladio, even if the words would cut Noct's soul deeply. He appreciated that about his friend, and often relied on him to drag him out of the dark moods he was prone to.

A balancing act. Their whole group was a balancing act, designed to keep Noctis from falling.

"The Crystal...if I wanna use its power, the Six have got to choose me. It's their Crystal, they get to decide. I gotta be _chosen_ by it, right?"

"Yeah..."

Noct looked up then, a stern face half-alight in the dancing flames.

"Luna's waking up the Six for me. To ask if they will bless _me_. You all fought Titan, for _me_. What if it's all a waste of time? What if I can't—" Noct's train of thought broke off to a frustrated grunt, teeth clenched as he looked away in some sense of shame that he wasn't good enough for the loyalty of his friends, "What if the Six won't bless me? Titan was pretty pissed to see us, and he's not even the most worrying of the lot."

"If they won't bless you, we'll fight 'em till they have to. Like we did with Titan." Gladio's response was exactly as expected, but did little to soothe Noct's concerns. The prince turned to look at him again, the frustration of his voice beginning to echo on his face.

"It might not be that easy. Think about it. The Crystal's power is gonna be used to cleanse the Starscurge. And if these books are to be believed, who _started_ the Starscurge?"

He gestured an open palm across the piles of books they'd acquired through their travels, every one of them having slightly different information, slightly differing tales of the Astrals. But one fact rang true within all the interpretations.

" _Ifrit_." Gladio noted, eyes also dropping to observe the books before them, "You're worried about the Infernian."

"Shouldn't I be? He's one of the Six, the Crystal is his as much as their's. He's not gonna bless me to undo all his work, is he? You think the Crystal is gonna be happy with five outta six? What's the point of me even going to the other five if this guy is definitely gonna refuse to acknowledge me? How can I even be this so-called _Chosen King_ if one of them doesn't _choose_ me?"

Noctis' frustration nearly boiled to anger, though it was fuelled by the inner feeling of doubt, the constant hounding in his mind that he simply wasn't good enough for all this, that he simply wasn't his _father._ More than anything, he wished his father was still with them...to protect them where Noct felt he could not, to advise him where Noct felt so utterly helpless...

Gladio watched the man's turmoil echo across his features, and sighed heavily through his nostrils. Half of the battle was getting Noct to _believe_ in himself, or at least stop dragging his feet in the process. The man had a strange lack of self-worth for one who was surrounded by people who would die for him, and Gladio couldn't begin to understand how Noctis couldn't see that.

"We'll figure it out. Maybe Lunafreya's already got it covered. Can't imagine she'd set off to wake the Six without a plan."

"Indeed. Desperation may fuel us all, but the Lady Lunafreya is no fool. She surely has a plan to bring Ifrit to his sense."

Ignis' voice heralded the return of he and Prompto, the blonde balancing three plates across his arms where Ignis carried only one. No doubt the gunslinger had insisted to carry the dishes in some act of helping the other; ever since Iris had pointed out the group's reliance on Ignis for the basic acts of survival, Prompto had taken it upon himself to help where he could.

It may not have been much, Ignis noted, but the gesture was far from unnoticed, and not unappreciated.

"'Sides...she's figured out a problem _way_ more complicated than a moody Fire God." Prompto said, handing Noctis his food, "Didn't Shiva like... _die_ a while back? Luna said she's wakin' her up too, so if she's got a plan for that, she probably has a plan for Ifrit too. We just gotta worry about _getting_ the blessing once she does, yeah?"

"I guess..."

* * *

She knelt in the night, in a crudely-drawn circle embellished in dying candlelight. Whatever confidence she feigned upon her face was betrayed by her voice.

"And...if I take his spirit and give it to you...you can summon another Messenger like yourself to house it? I can begin the act of reincarnating Ifrit?" Luna's voice was quiet in the dark, and seemingly addressing nothing.

"Yes. As you did for Shiva, so must you do for her foil; you harnessed the undying spirit of Shiva and gave her a new vessel in me." Gentiana, the raven-haired Messenger, appeared as though she had never left Luna's side, still and calm so as to blend into the night air around them, "As you defied death for her, we shall defy the darkness for Ifrit. His spirit must be removed from his current incarnation, and placed within another. It is our only hope, to place his spirit within one who may be more willing to give unto the King his Blessing."

Luna nodded her understanding, and brought her hands together. A low glow began to encircle her closed hands, a star in the gloom around them.

The starlight began to heat, and the air around her hands began to waver and warp with the act. Where the light once bloomed white, it now began to scorch with cinnabar. Her skin began to _peel_ and blister, and it was only with the thought of her duty unto the world that the Oracle held on, her eyes screwing shut in the pain of it.

And then, in the air around them, shattered a howling _scream._ It was not a sound of pain, nor torment, but one of _defiance_ , one of understanding and _rebelling_ against the current.

"You have hold of his spirit! Do not let go, Oracle!" Gentiana's voice only just made it over the tearing, heated winds that swirled around them, drying the ground under them into sand in minutes. "Rend it from his physical form, now!"

Luna's lips parted in a pained gasp, as she felt phantom talons clawing up her arms, pulling wounds all too real upon her pale flesh. Her own powers exhausted and drained her lifeforce, making her body frail as she woke the Six; the act of dragging an unruly god's spirit from its current physical body was near _shattering_ her bones and she wondered if she would even survive this encounter long enough to wake the next god for Noctis.

The image of the midnight-haired prince flickered across her mind.

She would _not_ let him down.

With a cry of anguish laced in pure _will_ , the Oracle **demanded** the spirit of Ifrit, tearing it from him despite the realms between them; the act blasted her backward, caught in the arms of Gentiana.

The winds died to nothing in an instant, leaving the pair surrounded in heat-scorched sands and an echo of the Infernian's wrath. In her hands, Luna held a shaking grip upon the burning soul of Ifrit.

Forcing her eyes open, Luna offered the spirit unto the Messenger with a shaking arm.

"...Take it...for a new vessel—"

As Gentiana made to reach for the flame within Luna's hand, the spark burned blinding light, before exploding into ashes and dancing away on the breeze.

Luna's eyes became wide, and she all but stumbled to her feet.

" _No!_ No...what happened?! The spirit...it was _there_ , I had it. For Noct—"

She turned to her Messenger, her usual composure for a moment fractured by her worry that she had failed her prince. And yet, the Messenger's face was calm, if not troubled, as she watched the direction of the breeze.

"Ifrit's desire to be free burns bright even within his soul. Perhaps it is not surprising then, that he would not have his next incarnation chosen by Shiva..."

"Then we must find _who_. Noctis must know where Ifrit now resides."

"I fear he will not need to look far, my dear Oracle..."

* * *

 The camp was settled and frozen, blanketed in the soothing calm of the night sky under a painting of stars. The fire had simmered down to embers, providing little heat to air around them.

Noctis had long since retreated to the tent to sleep, though his tormented thoughts of failure did little to ease him to rest. Prompto had nodded off, a soft snore issuing from parted lips; Gladio was taking watch until the early hours, and Ignis had rather ungracefully for one such as he, fallen asleep onto an open book, glasses half-knocked on his nose for his awkward position, face resting on a chapter regarding Shiva's first incarnation.

Unseen by all, lightly glowing ashes floated across the ghost of a night breeze, raining near-invisible specks over the campsite...


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis stirred awake, bleary eyes blinking against the morning sun that vented though the material of the tent. It wasn't often he was given the pleasure of waking natural whenever he wanted; the prince was prone to sleeping in until late in the day, much to the frustration of Ignis. Yawning and stretching out, the man crawled out of the tent and looked around the campsite bathed in sunlight.

Almost immediately, he was accosted by a laughing ball of energy they had named _Prompto_. The blond thrust his camera into Noctis' hands, mouth stretched in a broad grin.

"Dude, check it out! I've captured the _rarest_ of photos!"

"Errr—"

Eyes flicked down just in time before a gloved hand swiped the camera from Noctis. A rather dishevelled and ruffled Ignis was glowering down at the camera screen, pressing at the buttons.

"It is _not_ at all amusing, Prompto. Where is the delete function?"

"Hey, no, give that back! I'm not giving up the treasure of _Ignis Ungraceful_! Seriously, you're like, the sloppiest sleeper. You were _drooling_ on your book-pillow!"

"I was _not drooling!_ "

Noct elected to side-shuffle away from the pair's argument, heading for the safety of Gladio. The larger man was packing up their campsite already, and loading the heavier things into the Regalia.

"They been like that all morning?" Noctis asked, jerking his head towards Ignis and Prompto.

"Pretty much. You feeling any better?"

Noct's face fell, as the last dregs of the blessing of sleep were knocked away by Gladio's words. The worry and torment of the previous night resurfaced as he recalled their conversation, and the prince sighed.

"...A little." He lied, decided against having the same conversation all over again. "We just gotta trust Luna, I guess. She figured everything out so far..."

A heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, nearly knocking him sprawling on his face. When he looked around, the taller man was beaming down at him.

" _Exactly_. Put a little faith in your subjects, Noct." He cast a glance to Ignis and Prompto, where apparently the cook had lost his grip on the gunslinger's camera, and Prompto had taken no time in celebrating his victory as he ran away with his camera in hand. "Even if, y'know, some of them are these idiots..."

A smirk curled Noct's lip for the first time in a number of days.

"Was the photo that bad?"

"Oh gods yeah. Glasses wonky, bedhair, drool. Iggy's not going to live this one down for a few months."

* * *

It took a fair amount of time to get the four of them back in the Regalia and moving along, with some compromise on Prompto's part that he may keep the illusive photo of _sleeping Iggy_ if he promised not to keep showing it to everyone. Ignis had, reluctantly, agreed to stop threatening to throw the blond out of the moving vehicle.

Finally, they were on their way to Altissia. To Luna, to the Leviathan, and to the third of the Six that Noct would have to prove his worth to receive the blessing of. By all accounts of what they had read, the Leviathan was a difficult goddess, one warped in pride and bitterness of eons past. Still, if he couldn't convince the serpent that he was the True King, he would have no hope of cleansing the Starscourge. Noct bit his lower lip and cast his eyes to his feet.

So much was on his shoulders. So much he had never asked for.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts was he, that he didn't notice the car start to slow.

"Hey er...Iggy? You okay?" Prompto's tentative voice cut through the haze of his self-concern, and Noctis looked into the rear-view mirror. What he saw brought his brow furrowing and chased away his own demons.

"Pull over, Ignis." He commanded, leaning forward and putting a hand on the back of the driver's seat for leverage. "Seriously, you don't look good."

"I...I'm fine..." The man's usually strong tone came a little weaker than usual, though he did his best to remain composed, his back was held just a little _too_ stiffly upright, his hands curled on the wheel a little _too_ resolutely, as if the actions were requiring too much thought or energy. His face had dropped into paler shades, and a pinkish hue marred across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. More worryingly was the light clouding of his eyes, veiling the usual sparkling emerald hues and dragging them into a murky green.

Still, Ignis clenched his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching in defiance. "A little tired from this morning's excursions, but _fine_. Please do not worry about me, Your Highness."

Internally, Ignis was _pleading_ for Noct to let this go. Whilst he had woken later than usual, a pressure of a headache beginning to build behind his eyes and his skin feeling a little more heated than it ought to, Ignis had paid it no heed. If he was coming down with some paltry illness, he would deal with it silently; he would not allow such a thing to slow them down at this point, nor would his composure allow him to.

Though the would-be king settled back in his seat, he did so uneasily. He wasn't wholly convinced by Ignis' reassurances, but knew better than to argue with the man whilst he was driving. Instead, he turned an imploring look to Gladio, who nodded once in mutual understanding. After a few minute passed, he promptly tried to stretch, long legs hitting the back of Prompto's chair.

"Ahh...Iggy, time for a pit-stop anyway? My legs are crampin' up back here."

Sharp eyes turned to the rear view mirror suspiciously, but not one to accuse anyone, Ignis sighed.

"Very well. But we mustn't dawdle. I don't wish to waste the daylight hours when we could be travelling."

It wasn't long before an outpost etched on the horizon and, silently thankful, Ignis pulled over and parked. Where the rest of the group got out, he remained in the car, stealing a brief second to rest his head back on the chair and close his eyes.

The headache hadn't subsided he noted with distain, pinching the bridge of his nose and knocking his glasses up in the process. And yet, he was no longer too warm – a creeping chill was beginning to settle on his skin like a film of oil, despite the fact he felt warm to the touch.

If he was getting ill, Ignis would live in denial of it for as long as humanely possible.

"Would an Ebony fix it?"

The driver jumped a little, startled by Noct's voice. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the prince, standing next to him outside the car with his hand resting on the door. The dark-haired man looked concerned, and yet, seemed to be respecting Ignis' wish not to talk directly about his current state of weakness. He was quietly grateful for that, and offered Noct a ghost of a smile across a tired face.

"Nothing it couldn't fix."

He got out of the car then, shoes clicking on the concrete, when his vision _swam_. He staggered forward, nearly coming to his knees if it weren't for Noctis' swift reactions in grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.

" _Woah_ , okay there Specs, you're _definitely_ not just hiding some sniffles. Come on...let's sit you down, yeah?" He began guiding Ignis to the Crow's Nest to sit in the booth the others had secured, even as the man mumbled assurances and protests that he was quite alright.

As they approached, Prompto immediately leap to his feet to help Noctis seat Ignis down. Of the four of them, he was the worst at keeping his concerns from marring his features, and the blond looked between the two of them in a state of semi-panic, worry glistening in his eyes.

"Hey wh-what's up with him?" He asked Noct in a near stutter, before sitting down near Ignis and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You okay? You want me to grab you an Ebony?"

Ignis managed a hoarse laugh, noting how both of them had so far jumped on his favourite drink as perhaps being the miracle-cure he needed. Perhaps they weren't wrong.

"Please..." He replied graciously if gracelessly, and watched as the blond hopped up again to head to the counter.

"You good, Iggy?"

Gladio was watching the other man with more than a hint of concern, yet less panic than the other two. Less prone to outburst of emotion, Gladio was nonetheless a man of action. If something needed fixing, he would fix it, and he was drawn restless if he could not. Ignis noted that restlessness starting to stir in the other.

"Yes, yes. I suppose sleeping outside on a _book_ last night hasn't sat well with me, is all. I must have caught _cold_."

The last word, strangely, roused a feeling of _nausea_ in Ignis, and he nearly caved to the temptation to rest his head on the table and close his eyes. A stoic sense of pride kept him from doing so, though he clamped his mouth shut quickly all the same. It was as if in saying the word his skin prickled and chilled further, a sensation that was bringing him to sickness and discomfort.

Perhaps he shivered, a motion he couldn't hide, because he felt the heavy fabric of a coat rest over his shoulders. He glanced up in confusion, before realising Noctis had removed his own jacket and draped it over him.

"Y-Your Highness, you have no need to—"

"You're cold, and you're wearing it. That's an order."

Ignis swallowed a protest behind Gladio's laugh.

"Aw man, you're going to start pulling _that_ kinda crap with us? Besides, generals _order_. Don't kings like, _command_?"

Noctis shrugged, sitting himself down next to Gladio and opposite Ignis.

"Eh, whatever. Doesn't the king get to decide what it's called?"

"Is that an _order_?"

"Damn right."

Ignis smiled resignedly, tugging slightly on the jacket to adjust it better over his shoulders. He was thankful for the warmth, and appreciated the comfort that came with the scent held on the jacket; it smelt faintly of amber, a warm and earthy scent distinct to the prince. He quickly shook the notion off, thankful for the feverish hue already staining his cheeks that might hide any embarrassment he felt for the sentimental thoughts that flitted over his illness-ridden mind.

"One Ebony! Pipin' hot, dash of cinnamon, good splash of milk _aaaaaand_ -" Prompto had returned with Ignis' drink, setting it down in front of him with one hand, and then dropping some sachets next to it. "Three sugars. 'Cause I couldn't remember if you took two or three..."

Oddly, of all of them, Prompto was the only one to correctly recall how Ignis drank his Ebony; the others, for whatever reason, frequently assumed he enjoyed his coffee black. Perhaps it was his demeanour, but in truth, the man preferred the drink in a sweeter variety. Usually, he drank it iced, but with the chill coursing relentlessly across his skin, he placed both hands around the cup for warmth.

"Thank you, Prompto."

* * *

It wasn't long before they had turned in for the night, having decided (and simultaneously forced Ignis to admit) that they could not travel in his present state. Though he sounded off his protests of being well enough to drive, the trio had half-pushed the man into a hotel room, and Gladio had _accidentally_ shoulder-bumped into the lanky man, knocking him sprawling into a bed.

"Well, you're there now. May as well rest up." He had observed gruffly, leaving Ignis scowling.

Still, he kicked off his shoes, making a vain attempt to lean over the bed and tidy them somewhat at the side of it, before changing his shirt into one of the looser tee-shirts he brought with him, and switching his trousers for a pair of shorts. Usually, he would fold his clothes (and Noct's...and Prompto's...and Gladio's...) before going to bed, but the exhausted man could feel the fever beginning to prickle up his throat and coddle his head stuffily.

He made do with a best effort to leave his clothes draped over the arm of a chair, before curling up under the quilt, legs tucked in.

"Errr...Specs?"

"Mmm?"

"... _specs_."

At Noct's reminder, the prince watched with half-amusement as one arm emerged from the quilt-pile holding the glasses Ignis had neglected to remove before tucking himself into bed, and blindly settled them on the bedside table. The dark haired prince then turned to the other two men, unease filtering over his expression.

"You think he'll be okay? We can take a break for a few days, get him to a doctor..."

"He probably just caught a cold from being out all night. He'll be fine. Besides..." Gladio sat back in his chair, eyes lowered on his phone screen as he absently played a game with Prompto, far less animated about it than the blond, "Iggy'd burst a blood vessel if he thought you'd gone to get a doctor. The guy likes looking after people. Being looked _after_? Not so much."

"Yeah..." Noct felt a pang of guilt stir in his heart then, a reminder of just how much of the basics they left to Ignis sounding in Gladio's words. "But if he gets any worse—"

"Doctor straight away. Bust blood vessels or not." Prompto agreed, sitting as he was upside-down on his chair, head handing off the seat and legs swinging lightly in the air, "If it's just a cold, he should be alright by tomorrow though, right?"

"Here's hopin'. The idea of either of _you_ driving is enough to send me walking..."

* * *

His sleep was not restful. A light film of heat clung to his skin despite the unrelenting cold he felt, a sweat that refused to break across his body. Lungs singed and prickled as breaths came clipped and ragged, limbs twisting fitfully into the bedsheets and quilt, tangling them about him. Ignis' brow creased, his jaw clenched, as the fever-dream burrowed through his mind and into his eyes.

 _Flames_ , _the world was on fire around him, the air itself a thick haze that wavered and wandered about him, erratic and unstable. He brought his arms up in vain to shield himself from it, though the act was an impossible one; the high temperature was all round him, unremitting and constant. He had nearly forgotten what it was like not to burn..._

_He could see the skin of his hands peeling away before his eyes, flesh raw and exposed. In the distance, a looming great figure watched over him, lazily sprawled across a throne of bones. And there, searing through the haze, a pair of ruby eyes under a twisting mass of horns._

_The expression was amusement; Ignis noted with some wounding of his pride, this creature was amused at his plight._

_"...Pitiful creatures..." The word may have been murmured from the beast, but the air around them shook with the force of its voice. "...shall be reforged in my image..."_

_He didn't think it possible, but the air around them seemed to increase in temperature once more, the impossible scalding flaying the skin from his hands and arms, his face boiled and blistered, his eyes reduced to cinder—_

Ignis gasped and choked as he awoke, half-locked still within the dream's grasp, and still tangled within the bed sheets and something else far larger than he was with a binding grip on his arms, had he been thrashing in his sleep?

"—C'mon Iggy, calm down! You're dreaming, it's just a dream, c'mon..."

The primal panic that seemed to have caught him in his sleep ebbed away a little as he froze, staring into the gloom at the fuzzy figures surrounding his bed. A light was flicked on, though it did little to aid his sight.

He didn't need to see to hear the fear in Noct's voice.

"Ignis, are you okay? We're gonna get you to a doctor, okay, but you need to keep calm. Your temperature's through the roof..."

He couldn't understand how or why. He felt like he was freezing to death, no longer trying or being able to hide his shivering.

"I-I'm...fine..." The words came out as rote, expected and practiced, yet with no support of his own tone or any belief to back them up. As such, the protest fell on deaf ears.

"No, you're not. You nearly KO'd Gladdy in your sleep, dude." Prompto pointed out, earning a low growl from the man next to him and a light flinch from the blond. "What? He did!"

"Not helping." Gladio turned his attention back to the fever-lost man he was half-restraining, loosening his grip and letting him lie back down on the bed. "You stay there. None of this _I'm fine_ nonsense either. Prompto, go get him some water. Noct, keep an eye on Iggy. We can't move him like this, I'll fetch a doctor to come here."

Everything seemed to be swimming through mud, his mind utterly stagnant with fever and he _loathed_ it. Ignis was an observer, he watched, he calculated, he reacted. Being slow was out of the question, let alone being muddled and without sense. Some stubborn parts of his pride tried its best to claw together some dignity and grasp of the situation, but for the life of him he couldn't piece it together.

Instead, he sat up in bed and huddled the quilt closer to him, the motion small and slow as if to try and hide it behind some semblance of his usual upright grace.

"...I'm sorry..."

Noct watched Gladio leave, then turned a sad smile to Ignis. The man was a sorrowful sight, hair twisted and messy, skin paled and blotched with illness, eyes sluggish and veiled in a glistening fever cloud. Somehow, he was still more refined like this than Noctis was most mornings.

"Well, makes a change from _I'm fine_ , but you're banned from apologising now too."

* * *

 Paws scampered through the grass, beating a speed across the dirt that brought clouds up in its wake. The dog torn through the early morning darkness, eyes set steadfastly before him, his duty calling him through any fear of daemons.

Umbra dashed towards his destination, a book tied to his back, a message written with great haste within for the prince.

**_Ifrit is among you._ **


	3. Chapter 3

In the time Gladio was absent in search of a doctor at this late hour, Ignis had fallen back to sleep, far more restful than he had been hours before. A glass of water stood neglected on the bedside table, having been offered by Prompto and oddly declined by the man, despite Noct's urging.

The prince remained seated in the chair by the bed, almost nodding off himself, chin resting on his collarbone. Through heavy-lidded eyes he regarded the still form of his friend. It was bizarre to see him like this; Ignis was always the serious one, the one who kept everything organised, who reminded them all of their duties when perhaps they would be more inclined to slacking off. Though he was only two years older than Noctis, he often wondered if Ignis was better prepared to run the country than he was.

They had on more than one occasion, clashed over Noctis' apparent indifference to his inheritance in his youth. And yet, despite all the frustration he no doubt caused the other, Ignis remained steadfast in his loyalty.

On more than one occasion, the question crossed his mind: _why?_

Gladio stayed out of some strange-found respect of Noctis' courage. In their early days, the warrior had outright _loathed_ the prince, viewing him as spineless and weak. Sometimes, he saw that thought slip into Gladio's tone when, on instances, the man would snap him out of some dark reverie that he wasn't good enough. In some ways, this was a perfect balance for the prince's dark moods, a sharp awakening from the no-nonsense fighter who became agitated not out of hatred now, but out of the _knowledge_ that Noctis did indeed have it in him to stand up for what was right. He'd seen it that day so long ago, when the prince had stood up for Iris before the King. And he continued to see it to this day.

In Prompto, Noctis had a true friend. Someone who supported him and he supported in turn. The blond brought out the rare smiles in Noct, and the prince seemed to affirm some worth within Prompto, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why Prompto didn't see this on his own. Prompto's loyalty was born of the trustiest sense of duty straight from a fairytale; he'd received a letter from Lunafreya, like a princess bequeathing a duty upon her knights, asking him to summon the courage to befriend the then-lonely Noct. Sure, it had taken Prompto a few years to muster the courage, but in the end, they had forged a bond they could both trust the other to lean upon. It was that self-same duty to Luna and Noctis himself that fuelled Prompto's loyalty.

But Ignis? Noct couldn't remember a time where the young man _wasn't_ part of the castle's work force. A sort of butler to the prince, he looked after him in every way, despite the lack of gratitude on Noct's part; sewing his clothes, cleaning his apartment, cooking his food, even attending meetings in his lazy absence. Surely something other than _work ethic_ must have been keeping the man driven through all that, but the prince had not quite been able to fathom what. Despite their warmer connection in their adult years, Ignis still remained stoic and seldom opened up to the group.

The sound of stirring bed sheets brought Noct out of his half-dozing thoughts, and he looked up in surprise to see Ignis sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him, attempting to get to his feet. Noct flinched, then got to his feet and rounded the bed, putting an arm out to stop his wayward friend.

"Woah, hey, what are you doing?"

Ignis blinked slowly, before looking up at Noct. His face was softened from its usual serious expression, and Noct realised this was the first time he'd seen Ignis looking anything other than utterly composed. _Relaxed_ , almost.

But his eyes were still glazed with fever, and that brought concern to Noctis' chest.

"I..." Ignis' voice trailed off, as if the man was struggling to recall _why_ he was trying to leave his bed. He looked down at his bare feet, blinking dully again. "...I have to start breakfast."

The muttered sentence came out almost as a question, and Noct realised the poor man was scarcely gripping on to his usual routine, thrown out of sync as it was with his sleeping and illness. Trust this man's work ethic to survive a deadly fever...

Noct placed a hesitant hand on Ignis' shoulder, keeping him seated.

"Ah, no. No you're good. Gladio's gone to get food. You can just rest."

Again, bleary eyes followed to Noct's hand on his shoulder, before looking back up at him, though with the uncanny appearance of looking _through_ him.

"...Gladio can't cook."

The observation made Noctis half-smile despite the situation. Trust the memory of Gladio's god-awful cooking to survive a deadly fever too...

"Ah yeah, ready-made stuff. We're not gonna get poisoned." Noct tried to reassure the groggy man, feeling very much out of his comfort zone. He wasn't very good at this, he noted to himself, chalking it up on a long list of things he felt he _wasn't_ very good at. "Take a day off." He lightly tried to push Ignis back into bed, though the sudden sorrowful expression that filter through the tired face that looked up at him caused him to falter.

"...Am I...to be sent away?"

The question threw Noctis entirely. _Sent away?_

"Huh? You mean...fired? No Specs, I'm not firing you for a sick day."

The words didn't seem to do much to settle the other, so he continued: "Why would you think that?"

Ignis' shoulders slumped, and for a moment, Noct thought perhaps the man had fallen back into an illness-induced exhaustion. Surely, the man was in the throes of a delusional episode, and the lack of sense could be attributed to that.

"...I have to prove myself. To the king. I...I'm not my father's son...I'll make up for everything..."

Again Ignis trailed off, eyes starting to close. Though the prince felt some selfish desire to pry further, his concern for Ignis was paramount. Slowly, he settled the other back into bed, pulling the sheets up over him and thinking to himself how he owed Ignis _years_ worth of being looked after, let alone one night.

"You will." He had no idea what Ignis was referring to, but felt it would be easier to reassure his fever-clouded mind at this stage, "The king thinks highly of you."

The latter was something Noct knew for certain; his father held Ignis in high regard, and it wasn't unheard of for the late king to turn to him in the stead of his own advisors. He trusted him enough to give him responsibility in watching out for Noctis as he lived alone in his apartment, enough to take notes in meetings in his stead. He thought the king's warm feelings would have been obvious. So why then was Ignis so concerned with continuing to prove himself?

 _Was that his fuel to his loyalty?_ Noctis mused, thinking back to his previous ruminations of his friends' reasons to stand by him. _To prove himself to my father?_

No...such a basic reason was surely not Ignis' only reason.

"Workaholic much?"

Noctis turned from the now-restful Ignis to see Prompto standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

"Tch...yeah...was going on about making us _breakfast_..."

"At 4am? Dedication, dude."

"You can say that again."

Noctis rose from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and stretched out his tired limbs. Looking after people was _hard_. The thought brought question to his lips before he had time to consider it.

"Prompto...you know much about Ignis' parents?"

The blond seemed caught off-guard by Noct's question, but he looked away in thought all the same, doing his utmost to recall any conversations he might have had with the guarded Ignis.

"Errr...I know he isn't from Lucis. Figure from his accent he might actually be from Nifelheim."

That brought a shock to Noctis' heart, and apparently, it echoed on his face as Prompto noted it and began to panic, hands out in defence. "Well, like, I'm not _sure_! I just, well, I've heard the accent before ages ago and..." Now he was worried about revealing his _own_ origins, and his tongue nearly tied up on itself in a vain attempt to keep his own story hidden without dropping Ignis in it either. "Iggy's lived his whole life in Lucis though, right? So does it really matter?"

"...Of course not...I just...never considered that before."

True, Ignis _did_ have a different accent to the three of them. He'd never thought to ask about it before. _Nifelheim_...the very Empire at war with Lucis.

_Perhaps that is why he is so determined to do a good job. He wants to prove to everyone he supports Lucis through and through._

It made sense, in a way, that Ignis would try twice as hard as anyone else in the castle for concern that he might be deemed anything less than a citizen on Lucis. The prince made a note to reassure the man of this once he was better.

"Right, errr...well, like I say, I'm not totally sure, not like he _told_ me or anything, I just figured..." Prompto's rambling died away, as he looked over at the sleeping cook. "...How is he though?"

"Confused. Tired. I sympathise."

"You wanna catch some sleep before Gladio gets back? I can keep an eye on him."

He offered a grateful, tired smile to the gunslinger.

"...Thanks."

* * *

The sun was risen before the opening of the door latch stirred Noct from his limited sleep. Getting up and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and rub the exhaustion away, he nodded as Gladio entered...oddly without company.

"No luck?" He asked, padding into the room. The man shook his head, his expression grave.

"No...no doctor. But I did find somethin' else."

Noct noticed now, at his ankles, a little black dog dusted in a light layer of dirt. Umbra had clearly run _far_ to reach him this time. The prince squatted down to greet the creature, removing the book from his back.

"Hey Umbra, hope you have good news...we could use it."

The dog whined as the prince opened the notebook, eyes scanning the words inside.

"Maybe write Luna back asking for a doctor to come out here? She might have more luck." Prompto called over his shoulder, having busied himself with applying cold compresses to Ignis' overly-warm forehead. The sleeping man seemed adamant to keep sleepily pushing the compress off his forehead, leaving the blond with a slight battle on his hands. " _Gods_ , Gladio wasn't kidding when he said you don't like being looked after! Stop knockin' it off, Iggy, it's meant to make you feel better!"

Noct barely heard Prompto's argument with the unconscious Ignis, his eyes fixed as they were upon the words within the book. It was more than the usual short note of encouragement, and the hand was far more rushed than Luna's usual elegant swirl:

**_Dearest Prince,_ **

**_It is with a heavy heart I must inform you of grave news: Ifrit is among you. And it is with a heavier heart yet that I must inform you of my fault in this. As I am sure you know, one of the Six, Shiva, was slain by the Empire long ago. And yet, despite this, Gentiana and I found a way to reincarnate her that she might offer her Blessing unto you, to allow you to take your rightful place as the True King._ **

**_In much the same way, we sought to reincarnate the unruly Ifrit that his second incarnation may be more gracious with his Blessing for you. For surely the current Infernian would thwart your path to the Crystal by withholding his Blessing. But our plans have gone awry, and though Ifrit's current form was felled, we were unable to house his spirit safely in a Messenger to become his second incarnation. His spirit fled, and Gentiana fears it may well seek you out, that he might sow discord upon you and your group. The spirit of Ifrit will stop at nothing to prevent you, Noctis. And without being able to seal him within a strong enough vessel, I fear the second vessel he chooses may fall prey of Ifrit's will._ **

**_Forgive me, Prince Noctis, for I have failed you in my task. Be ever vigilant, and know that I am doing all in my power as the Oracle to discover who Ifrit's current vessel is._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_Lunafreya_ **

"She write you a novel this time?" Gladio asked, nodding to the filled pages. Noct closed the book with a snap, feeling the burden of his journey once more.

"Something like that." He said, straightening up. There was no sense writing back and sending Umbra on his way until he had time to truly digest the long passage and figure out what the hell was going on. He made an attempt in relaying the information to Gladio and Prompto. "Luna tried reincarnating Ifrit."

"Told you she'd have a plan. Makes sense. Next fire god might be less insane." Prompto said, having given up with Ignis' refusal to accept the cold compress and taking to simply wiping his forehead in-between the man's slow hand-swatting. "Blessings for all, right?"

"N-not quite. She says it didn't go so well. She wanted to reincarnate him within one of the Messengers."

"There's more than Gentiana?"

"Yeah...but anyway...it didn't happen so...Ifrit's spirit is out there. Looking for a new vessel. And if Luna's note is anything to go by, his spirit has enough awareness to look for one it can corrupt. To get in our way again."

He handed the notebook to Gladio that the man could read for himself what was going on. In truth, he'd rather have Ignis look over it, but his advisor was most certainly out for the count now.

"So, what do we do? I mean, we gotta get Iggy back up and running, _ohmygodstopthrowingthecompressaway_ , but after that? Head on to get Leviathan sorted, or go looking for the new hothead with Ifrit's Blessing at his disposal?" Prompto had gotten up to retrieve the discarded cloth, which Ignis had managed to grab hold of and fling aside during his question. "Seriously, he's _asleep_. How is he doing this _asleep?!_ "

Gladio finished reading the note, and handed the book back to Noct.

"Personally, I think Leviathan will wait until Luna wakes her, and Luna knows this. She won't go rousing a sea serpent when there's a fire god on the loose. I say we go track him down, sort _that_ out, then head for Leviathan. Probably need a little cold water after tangling with Ifrit."

* * *

 

Gladio seemed to step in to the role of the group's advisor in Ignis' absence, though it wasn't without support from Noctis and Prompto. The trio found themselves sitting around a table, half-drunk Ebony in three mugs, trying to figure out the best course of action.

"So it's settled. We drive to the nearest town, and find a doctor for Iggy. Rest up there, and get whatever information we can from the locals about weird goings on locally. If Luna's right and Ifrit is hunting us down, someone musta heard something." Gladio summarised, sitting back in his seat. "Noct, you good to drive?"

"Yeah..."

"I like how I don't even get _considered_ for driver."

Gladio gave Prompto a grin.

"Well, who's gonna wrestle the compress on Iggy's head? You got a lot of practice in."

"Aw come _on_ , you can't serious—"

The gunslinger's complaints were cut off by a _crash_ in the other room. Immediately, the three were on their feet and darting into the adjacent room where Ignis was apparently no longer sleeping peacefully.

Noct was at his side first, gathering up the flailing man from where he had managed to collapse on the floor, untangling him quickly from his bed sheets. The prince hissed as his hand grazed Ignis' arm; it was _unnaturally_ warm.

"Gladio, he's burning up. _Really_ burning up." He managed to haul Ignis into a more comfortable position in his arms, though the man was twisting and writhing in discomfort, brow furrowed. Despite the heat literally radiating from him, no sweat broke his skin, and the man seemed desperate to find some kind of relief from the scorching. Long fingers clawed at the collar of his shirt, pulling it near to tearing, lips twitching mumbled pleas.

" _Please_...please stop...stop it...burning..."

Gladio pressed the back of his hand against Ignis' forehead, and flinched back almost immediately.

"What the hell...alright, look, we need to get his temperature down _now_. Prompto, get more cold water, more cloths. Not got time to draw a cold bath. Noct, take the shirt off him. We're gonna try putting cold compresses on his chest, back, and forehead. Got it?"

"G-guys, you don't think Ifr—"

"Prompto, _now!_ "

Gladio's command cut off whatever concern Prompto was about to voice, and though he seemed in half a mind to protest, he darted off to fetch the cold water.

Noct managed to twist Ignis out of his shirt, though if that helped reduce his temperature at all, the man didn't show it. Instead, his fingers started digging frantically at the skin of his collar bone, perhaps deluded in thinking he was under layers of clothing, his eyelids fluttering and revealing the whites of his eyes a little.

"...burns...please...make it stop..."

Gladio managed to prize Ignis' clawing hands before he could do himself too much damage, though his actions had already left raw red streaks across pale skin, drawing blood in some patches. He only relinquished his grip when Prompto arrived with the cold water, a few ice cubes clinking in the glass bowl, and started handing out cold-drenched cloths.

Feebly, Ignis had begun pawing at his own skin again, apparently resolved to try and claw it off in some vain attempt to cool down. One hand was stopped by Gladio, the other by Noct, as they both used their free hand to start applying the cold compresses to his burning skin. Though it was intended to bring relief to the man, he seemed to squirm _more_ and a yelp of pain stumbled out of his throat.

" _Woah_ , woah woah stop, _stop_!" Prompto nearly lunged at the pair, pulling the compresses off Ignis. "Look..."

The skin where the cold compresses had been placed were cooler to the touch, but his _lips_ were rapidly turning _blue_ , as if he had very suddenly been exposed to frigid arctic blasts. As if on cue, Ignis' teeth started chattering, and he began to shiver.

"What...what are we supposed to _do_?" Noctis half-demanded, casting the compress away and grabbing Ignis' shoulder and shaking it in panic and confusion. "Ignis. Ignis, wake _up_!"

Before Gladio could reach out to stop his desperate act, Ignis' eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, staring directly at the prince looming over him—

—where emerald irises had been replaced by burning rubies.


	4. Chapter 4

It quickly became evident that a doctor would not be of any use to their ailing friend.

Confused and discomforted, Ignis did, however, seem to be settling somewhat. Noct allowed himself the small hope that perhaps the worst had passed, for now. Still, it the connection between Luna's message and the man's current state had become all too evident when his eyes had opened, revealing burning embers in the place of his usual calm green irises.

"Ifrit...is using Ignis as a _vessel_?" Prompto was reading over Lunafreya's note, his eyebrows furrowed a little as he did so, "If he's out to cause havoc, he picked the most composed guy out of the lot of us. Shoulda gone with Gladio."

Noctis didn't pay much attention to the ensuing squabble between Gladio and Prompto. Instead, he turned tired eyes to Ignis.

The man was awake now, sitting comfortably in one of the chairs in the hotel room. He had, however, elected to keep the quilt wrapped around his shoulders. His temperature was wildly fluctuating; one moment would see him shake the quilt off and looking uncomfortably warm, the next, he would be grasping back for the warm blanket. Still, he didn't complain, and his face was beginning to set back into its usual stern composure, eyes starting to unclear from the confusion of fever.

"I'd question his decisions as well..." Ignis mumbled, though Noctis' eyes narrowed. Somehow, he felt Ignis knew more about Ifrit's decision to pick him as his vessel than he was perhaps letting on. Questions of his past that had flickered to the surface of his mind the previous night still stung and nagged at his thoughts. "Though I would not wish this upon anyone, much less a friend. It's rather tiresome to be burning and freezing in equal measure."

"That will settle...in time."

A voice embodying the eye of a storm, light and calm, cut through the group's conversation with ease. Though she had made no sound, it appeared Gentiana had joined them, stepping out from the shadows behind Prompto and earning a jump of alarm from him. Her smile ever-painted upon her face, she bowed a little in greeting. "I assure you, the first few days are difficult. But it may alarm you to realise that it is in the Infernian's best interested to keep you alive. If you were to die, his spirit would be freed again, and we would not make the same error twice. He would not have the luxury of choosing his vessel. If he has picked you for a reason, it stands that he would wish to keep you safe."

"You wanna commune with him goddess-to-god and maybe tell him to lay off the fevers and such then?" Gladio asked, jerking his head towards Ignis. "If this is Ifrit doing his best to keep him alive, I'd hate to see his worst."

Gentiana's smile faltered a little at this, and Noct was sure she saw almost _guilt_ flicker over her features.

"I doubt this was intentional, rather, a side effect of a human housing the spirit of fire. Such a thing has not happened before...the gods had their own bodies, or if needed, would take a Messenger as a vessel. We are akin to their own forms, far stronger than humans and much more resilient to elemental energy. In truth, your friend may perish despite Ifrit's best efforts."

"I _am_ conscious and still in the room." Ignis retorted haughtily, stirring his Ebony a little too briskly, "Have you all gotten into the habit of speaking about me as if I can't hear you?"

His sharp response earned another slight bow from the Messenger.

"My apologies...as I say, the temperature is likely a side effect you will learn to control. By all accounts, you seem to be doing better already."

Noct noticed a muscle twitch in Ignis' jaw, a small telltale sign that the man was holding back on saying something. A lifetime around an arrogant prince no doubt made the man a master of biting his tongue, Noct mused.

"It is a struggle...but I believe I may be getting the hang of it, yes."

"A human without royal blood who is such a natural at controlling elemental magic. How unusual."

The suspicion in Gentiana's voice floated lightly, and Ignis saw best to ignore it.

"Indeed. And yet, hardly the most pressing matter." He set his Ebony down, red eyes gleaming at Gentiana. "What comes of this? Does Ifrit seek control of me? I can only assume he will not be content with me deciding for him what happens."

"He will try to pry your mind away, yes...and settle his own consciousness in its stead."

Prompto leapt to his feet, looking a cross between fearful and _angry_. He rounded on Gentiana, hands out.

"Woah woah, _time out!_ You saying Ifrit's gonna like... _possess_ Iggy?"

Before she could respond, Gladio's voice overrode the whole conversation in one, simple question:

"Is he a threat?"

There was more behind this, that was certain. He wasn't simply asking out of Ignis' best interested, or curiosity. Gladio was asking what _needed to be done_. Noctis knew damn well the implications of that, and finally spoke.

" _Out of the question_ , Gladio."

"With all due respect, it's very much _in_ the question. Iggy's a friend, but if he's going to turn into a threat to us all, then—"

With slightly less strength than perhaps he would have liked, Ignis was on his feet.

"And _once more_ , you all seem quite content to speak of me as if I were not in the room. I assure you, the Infernian may be housed within me, but he hasn't rid me of my senses just yet! Perhaps you may wish to ask me _my_ thoughts on this?"

His hands were shaking, the nailbeds blotted a light bluish hue, and Noct realised the man was still struggling to regulate his own temperature, tipping back into cold once again. The prince rose, picking the quilt up off the floor where it had been knocked by Ignis' outburst, and wrapped it over his shoulders again.

Red eyes shot across to lock with blue, and for a moment, Noct wondered if the man was going to argue. But he felt his shoulders relax under his hands and, wordlessly, he sat back down. Ignis could fight his own fights, they both knew that. But for now, Noct would stand his ground for him, given his current condition.

"Gentiana...what do we do from here? Leviathan was our next call, but I can't do that if Ignis is in danger. How do we help him?"

The woman smiled softly at the prince, stepping back into the shadows where she had arrived.

"The bloodline of Lucis is uniquely tied to the elements. If anyone can help shoulder his burden, it's you."

With that, she was gone. Before silence could fully settle between the four of them again, Prompto groaned.

"C'mon! She's meant to be on our side, right? Couldn't she just... _tell us_?"

"It's hardly a complex riddle" Ignis said from where he was now huddled in his quilt again. Seeing the three of them turn eyes to him, he explained: "Noct draws elemental power from deposits around the land. From this, he is able to cast spells. This is not a skill other people have, it is unique to the royal bloodline."

He looked at the prince, wondering if he had figured it out yet. With the light shrug he gave, he realised not.

"Ifrit is the _embodiment_ of elemental energy. The sheer amount of it is overwhelming me...as Gentiana says, as a mere human, I am ashamed to admit I am struggling. But perhaps I could bequeath some of this elemental energy to you, Noct. With it, you can craft spells safely, rather than having it burning _me_ from the inside out..."

"Y'mean you're gonna be a walking energy deposit? Sweet, we're gonna have Noct throwing Figara for _days_ between camps!" Prompto grinned, clapping the prince on the shoulder. "Just err...try not to catch me on fire again, yeah?"

* * *

"Are you ready?"

"Man, when you say it like _that_ then no, I'm not."

"Well, prepare yourself! I'm not simply going to conjure the flames of _Ifrit_ on a hopes you might be ready!"

"It's not like I've done this before!"

"Oh come now, you've absorbed fire energy from _countless_ sources on our travels."

"Yeah, but they were like...rocks. Not crazy fire gods hiding in my friends."

Ignis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. The pair were outside in the barely-morning light, having decided to attempt this far away from anything that might catch fire. A combination of self-pressure and hatred for mornings was serving Noctis ill, it seemed. But he could already feel his skin prickling with overheat again, and he was anxious to try and settle the pressurised ache in his head and joints that seemed to settle in when Ifrit did.

"I'm not asking you to absorb the entirety of Ifrit's wrath, Your Highness. Just enough for me to _think_ clearly." As it was, he was already struggling between his own thoughts and the rumbling growls of the Infernian. He did not wish to leave it to chance much longer that his own wits would triumph over the god's will.

Ignis held his hands out, gloves having been discarded in precaution.

"Ready?"

"Yes, fine, just do it."

Noct mirrored his stance, ready to absorb the energy. He figured his best approach would be to simply picture it as one of the rock deposits that usually framed their campsites. It was a little difficult knowing his friend's sanity was on the line.

An ember caught in Ignis' palm and bloomed into a flame. It seemed controlled enough and so Noct began to draw the energy in.

For a few seconds, everything seemed fine—that was, until the fire _sparked_ and suddenly roared upwards in a pillar of flames. Noct leapt back, avoiding being scorched, and heard Ignis give a cry of unbridled _frustration_. As the flames cleared, he saw the man curled in a little on himself, holding his hands in a clamped grip at his torso. Flames had ignited around his body, licking and flickering across his form, but Noct somehow knew without asking that Ignis was in no danger of them. It was the closest he'd been yet to looking like the fire god that was housed within him, despite his cowering stance.

"A...Are you okay?" Noct asked hedging, stepping forward.

"...Are you?" Ignis reflected the question back, apparently far more worried that he had injured the prince than himself.

"I'm fine...you missed." He shrugged, trying to make light of the situation to ease his friend's no-doubt wounded pride. "Guess it's not like casting the spells I make you guys, huh?"

"Apparently not."

His advisor straightened up again, the fire flickering to nothingness around him, though he did not make any move to try and ask again. Noct broached the subject in his stead.

"You wanna give it another go?"

Briskly, Ignis shook his head.

"Perhaps we ought not risk it...truth be told, I feel a little better as it is." It was true; his head had cleared a little, his temperature felt something akin to normal, and the sound of Ifrit had simmered. Though, whether this was due to Noct's actions or simply the act of wrath in his wayward spell was anyone's guess.

"Mmkay, if you say so. But if you need help...you know we're here, right? All of us."

This earned a half-smile from Ignis as he looked at Noct.

"Well well, listen to _you_. Perhaps you'll start following your own advice, hm?"

"Knock it off..."

* * *

It took a few more days for both Noct and Ignis to master how to safely have the prince channel some of the excess fire energy from the other, and in those days, Ignis' health swayed to various degrees – on the days they were successful, he was nearly his old self again. On the days they were not, he ended up in the throes of fever, bedridden, or shivering in the corner.

And yet, as much as Noct was mastering channelling the energy, Ignis seemed to be slowly mastering the energy himself. It was a metaphorical meeting in the middle that saw Ignis stable enough for the group to finally move on from the hotel and head back onto the road.

"So, if Specs gets road rage, is he gonna like, spark up and torch the whole car?" Prompto asked as he jumped into the front seat.

"When have I _ever_ had road rage?" Ignis sighed, getting into the driver's seat.

"...I dunno, but banking on you _not_ doing it isn't exactly reassuring me."

"I'll make certain to throw you _out_ of the car before I do so then."

" _Nooooct_ , he's threatening to chuck me out of moving vehicles again!"

Noct smirked into the rear view mirror for his friend to see.

"He only promised not to do it about the photo. Anything else is fair game."

It felt nice to be moving along again, the prince noted as he looked out over the roadside flying along beside them as they drove. In fact, besides the burning red eyes he could see angled in the rear view mirror, everything was almost back to their strange sense of _normal_.

"So, we getting Leviathan's blessing first?"

Noct nodded to Gladio's question.

"Yeah...figure we meet up with Luna there, get Leviathan's blessing, then ask her how to get Ifrit's from Ignis."

Prompto knelt up in his chair to look back at Noct.

"You guys didn't figure it out then?"

"Apparently, Ignis just saying it isn't enough, no."

"Wow...bet that was awkward."

A gloved hand came out to push lightly on Prompto's waist, nudging him closer to the car door. The blond pushed back, scowling down at Ignis.

" _Hey!"_

Noct allowed a little chuckle to escape his lips. It had been something of a sore spot for Ignis when they realised he didn't seem to have any more command over the blessing of the Infernian than his fire at the moment, despite technically _being_ the Infernian now.

"We'll figure it out."

"Well...we had to fight Titan for his. Maybe you gotta fight Iggy?" Gladio offered, deep in thought as he considered the situation at hand. "After all, the blessings come from your proving yourself as the True King to the Six."

Noct looked away, tugging on his bottom lip a little at the idea. It wasn't that he doubted he _could_ be victorious against Ignis; as of right now, he had the advantage, with the Royal Arms and Power of Kings at his disposal, and Ignis nearly _slowed_ at the moment with his curse. It was precisely that that put the prince off from the idea. He'd not wish to fight any of his friends, much less on an uneven battleground.

Meanwhile, Prompto feigned shock at Gladio's words, a hand coming to his heart and mouth agape as he looked at Ignis.

"You mean Ignis _doesn't_ consider Noct king? Treason!"

"I can and _will_ push you out of this car, Prompto. And as of now, I may even light you on _fire_ as I do so."

Prompto began laughing, before suddenly becoming serious and looking to Noct for support.

"He can't do that yet, right? Like, _flame on_ whenever he wants? Right?"


	5. Chapter 5

As it was, housing the god of fire seemed to become a boon for Ignis once the group entered Lestallum. Where the other three members of the group began to swelter under the sun, the bespectacled man didn't seem to register it. In fact, he remained in his usual black jacket when Noctis even found himself shrugging his off.

"Not gonna say I'm jealous...but I'm totally jealous." Prompto complained, shoulders sagging as he dragged his feet along. "It's hotter than a Red Giant's armpit here."

" _Delightful_..." Ignis drawled, nose wrinkling a little at the blond's colourful choice of imagery.

"Smells better though." Gladio noted, sniffing, "Smells like _food_."

As if the word triggered a recollection within the group, Noct felt his stomach growl. They hadn't eaten since packing up camp that morning. Three faces turned to Ignis, simultaneously pleading at him.

"The streets are _filled_ with vendors. You needn't wait for me to cook you something."

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than Gladio had fast-tracked to the Cup Noodle stand, and Noct quickened his step towards a stand selling skewered meats. Inwardly, Ignis immediately regretted his decision. He turned to Prompto, and noted that the man was starting to mask his discomfort at his red-stained eyes a little better of late.

"Do try to nudge him in the direction of vegetation at _some_ point today." He requested, a pained exasperation filtering through his voice. Prompto shrugged, dismissing the notion.

"Actually, I was kinda hoping to tag along with you."

Mild alarm flitted across Ignis' face, and he blinked a little.

"Oh?"

It wasn't as if the pair didn't get along, far from it. Prompto often became the foil to Ignis' too-rigid demeanour, and in turn, Ignis would ground the blond a little if he started skipping up a little too high above reality. But if the two had much common ground, he wasn't aware of it.

Perhaps he was only trying to be polite, to offer to keep an eye on him after everything that had happened.

Ignis readjusted his glasses, looking away from Prompto.

"I was only planning to peruse the market stalls for fresh ingredients for tonight. I wouldn't wish to bore you."

Despite the gentle knockback, Prompto grinned and sided up to the taller man.

"Then I get to have a say in what we have for dinner!"

There was no harm in it, he supposed. The two of them set off for the market stalls, though Ignis couldn't resist walking past Noct and gently placing his hand on his upper back and starting to steer him towards a grocer selling fresh fruit and veg. The prince whirled under his arm to avoid being lead any closer to a source of nutrition with a muttered "Knock it off...", drawing a smirk from the cook.

The air around the market stalls whirled with the scent of spices and produce that Ignis himself had never clapped eyes on before. If Prompto was feigning interest, he was doing a very good job of it; the blond quickly scurried off to look through the various stalls, picking up various colourful spices and herbs and bringing them back for Ignis to inspect.

"Hey, Iggy! What about this one? It's _blue_. Like, where grows _blue_ vegetables?" Prompto held up a rather rotund looking root vegetable, its skin a pale powder blue. "Can we try it?"

"I don't see why not. But I have _no_ idea how to cook it."

"Trial and error!" He beamed, collecting the vegetable into his arm with a few other pieces he'd picked up on the way, and they headed to the stall owner to pay for their array of goods. And yet, when they came to hand over the gil, Ignis couldn't help but notice the store owner's wary look at him. For a moment, he wondered if they had been too boisterous around his stall, before a mutter behind him struck a chord in his mind.

" _...daemon?_ "

Ignis whirled about almost on reflex, then inwardly cursed his own stupidity. If the people around them were noticing and questioning his unusual features in his eyes as being daemonic, he had surely made himself look more guilty of it by reacting. Picking up on the situation, Prompto hurriedly paid for their goods then motioned Ignis away from the stall.

"C'mon, let's head to the hotel and drop this stuff off, yeah?"

Though his face, as ever, betrayed little of what he was feeling, the prickling heat that started to boil across his skin left refused to be ignored. Solemnly, and with an air of sadness, he followed his friend away and out of the markets. The silence hung between them for a moment, before he braved to ask:

"Prompto...do you think me _different_ now?"

Blue eyes glanced over his shoulder, somewhat taken aback by not only the suddenness of the question, but the rather personal question coming from the usually shielded man.

"What? No, why would you think that?" Seeing Ignis' eyebrows upturn in a ghost of an expression of wretchedness, Prompto continued, "I mean, okay, the eye thing freaked me out a bit. Not 'cause I thought you were different, but because I was scared you were _dying_. But it's all fine. You're still you. I could pop a pair of contact lenses in and I'd still be Prompto."

His simple, yet heartfelt explanation brought a small smile back to Ignis' face. He quickly scrubbed it away to settle back on his usual stoic expression.

"...I suppose."

The pair entered the hotel and paid for a room in the absence of their two friends, leaving a message at the reception for them. No doubt Noctis and Gladiolus would think to come here when they were done exploring the city. This left the two to unpack, though the prickling of his skin hadn't died down, and Ignis felt no desire to start preparing their new ingredients for dinner just yet.

Instead, he seated himself in one of the armchairs, and let his head fall back against the leather for a moment. He removed his glasses with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. Though he was a damn sight better than he had been in days prior, he still couldn't fully shake the feeling on weariness that had settled over him with the ashes of the Infernian. Nor could he shake the feeling that it was too _easy_ , too _quiet_ despite his ill-found guest.

"You okay?"

Prompto had flopped down on the seat next to Ignis, and he opened his eyes a little to regard the blurry figure next to him.

He allowed a smile to grace his features.

"Quite fine. Don't worry about me."

* * *

_Ignis opened his eyes._

_He was lying flat on his back in the snow. The cold seeped through his clothes, and yet, it didn't bother him too much. Somehow, he knew he was dreaming. Remembering. One of the two._

_It took a moment for him to realise the man that was standing over him, face loaming as he regarded the fallen Ignis._

_"Sire, we can find him shelter, but—"_

_"Fetch a dry cloak. He'll freeze before we reach the palace at this rate."_

_"Sire,_ _**please** _ _. I know you mean well, but you can't just bring home every poor soul who crosses you path."_

_Ignis could hear the thunder in the man's voice as he replied, quiet yet rumbling._

_"The cloak. Now."_

_Footsteps heralded the other man leaving, with just Ignis left in the snow, the King standing before him. He offered his hand out, but for the life of him, Ignis could not bring his own hand up to reach out. Sensing this, perhaps, the King knelt and scooped him up into a seated position._

_"You've travelled far."_

_It wasn't a question, Ignis noted, remembering how his feet were burned with cold, black and blue and bleeding. He knew well who this man was, and what his next answer might do. He might well leave him in the snow. And yet, he felt compelled to tell the truth._

_"...Niflheim. I'm from Niflheim, Your Majesty..."_

_"Oh? And do you know where you are now?"_

_Ignis nodded mutely._

_"Y-y-yes." His teeth chattered with cold._

_"...Then you_ _**chose** _ _to flee here?"_

_Ignis thought a moment...then shook his head._

_"I'm not running away." He had said, the memory as fresh now as it had been that day. He had only been young, yet he had a goal in mind when he had left Niflheim: "I'm delivering a message."_

_"A threat?"_

_There was no malice in the King's voice, and yet Ignis felt a pang in his heart all the same. Still, the King's advisor had returned with the cloak, and he donned it around Ignis' shoulder, warming him from the snow._

_"N-no...I...I want to make things better, not worse..." Ignis pleaded, "Niflheim...I know what they are creating. My father...he's clever, very clever. But his work is...it could hurt so many people. If I can stop that, I must. I must do what is right."_

_And what work it had been. The Magitek Troopers, though Ignis had not fully understood then their true daemonic origins, he knew his father, a scientist within Niflheim, prided himself on the work he was tasked with. To channel energies into materia, magic to use against the king that wielded it as a bloodright. To gift such destruction to all soldiers...would bring about a war unlike any the world had ever witnessed. He was first attempting to implant the technology within the Magitek Troopers, but in time, hoped it could be installed within true humans..._

_His father said it would simply make a fairer battlefield, instead of the King being the be-all and end-all of a war._

_Ignis only saw the scars of the world it would leave behind._

_"What is right..."_

_The King's voice seemed to shift a little in thought, and Ignis' brow knotted. He didn't recall this part of the memory. Had it warped in time, details scattered to the years gone by?_

_"...once, humans used to ask the gods what was right. A time gone by, perhaps."_

_Ignis blinked, and the scene had shifted. The snow twisted, hissed, and scorched away far more quickly than it could even melt. Before him, the King no longer knelt._

_A being far taller than he, with skin bronzed and gleaming like metal, looked down at him with crimson eyes under a natural crown of twisted horns._

_"When the humans stopped seeking the gods' guidance, they began to war upon themselves. Do you think that is right? The solution was so simple, return to the gods...and yet, you chose to remain as you were. Fighting among yourselves—"_

_His voice was calm, yet Ignis could feel the bitterness driving his words. He wanted to flinch away, but he found himself rooted to the spot._

_"—Perhaps they need reforging. If humans wish to tear each other apart...I can craft them. With_ _**claws** _ _, and_ _**talons** _ _, and_ _**teeth.** _ _Let this lot have their war, and when the Scourge ends, the world will be born anew. We can start again, the Six, and guide a new life of humans after the Scourge, a new world that will keep its eyes upon the gods and not falter. Bahamut says they can be saved, but why? Why save creatures with such arrogance? Let them have the war they crave, and I will forge peace in its ashes..."_

_Was he trying to convince Ignis to share a common goal? The man had assumed the creature would be more ferocious, demanding control rather than reasoning with him. Of everything he had read of Ifrit, the god was fickle and tempered. Then why—_

_In panic, Ignis tried to rise to his feet, only to find his feet would not move. Looking down, he noted in horror two twisted horns, seemingly broken from daemons from their appearance, impaled through his feet, pinning in him place. No pain, and yet, a growl of frustration managed to seep through Ignis' usual calm._

_Apparently satisfied, Ifrit rose, a towering figure bequeathing an almost pitying smirk on him._

_"...and from_ _**your** _ _ashes, vessel, I forge myself anew. Farewell..."_

_Distraction? How had he been so foolish? He had fallen asleep numerous times, not once had the god reared his consciousness. He had waited, cunning and patient, as if the act of sleeping would not present weakness in Ignis' mind for the god to take control, and he had believed it._

_This god had waged war on humanity and his own deity brothers. Ignis had truly been a fool to think he would have no such trouble containing the creature of his own will. In the days since the fever had burned out of him to seeming normality, the god had bided his time._

_Ignis dropped to one knee, tugging at the restraints in his feet, begging himself to wake up. The bone-like material turned to ash in his hands, replaced immediately with another, twisting horn. He was trapped in this dreamscape, and he could_ _**sense** _ _his mind slipping away as Ifrit seared over his consciousness._

_His last thought before the darkness blanketed his eyes was one of pleading the forgiveness of his brothers..._


	6. Chapter 6

It felt as though chains had snaked through Noctis' ribs, latching on and holding him back, slowing his movements and dulling his reflexes. Though he blocked the blazing daggers that arced at him, parried the blows and rolled from the cinders searing the air, the would-be king found no _fight_ would boil his own blood. Having lead the fury of Ifrit out of the city, it became clear the spirit was intent on snuffing out the king's life.

"Noct! Get it together!"

Gladio could sense weakness a mile away, always had. And he didn't suffer it any more than Ignis suffered fools. Noctis gritted his teeth and summon a sword to hand, blocking the god-possessed dagger wielder once more, before seeing Gladio drive his greatsword down. Ignis had leapt out of the way with the agility they'd come to expect of him, and yet Noct found himself rounding on the warrior all the same.

"We're _not_ in for a kill." He barked at Gladio, earning a scowl.

"No, but _he_ is. You gotta fight for your life, even if you're not fighting for his death." Gladio retorted, shouldering his sword once more in preparation, "Unless you got any idea how to shake Ifrit off of him, this guy _isn't_ Ignis right now. Stop thinking he is."

A flurry of ill-aimed gunfire drove Ifrit back once more, Prompto apparently finding it as hard as Noct to raise a weapon to god that resided within his friend.

"Less arguing, more ideas please!" He yelped, diving out of the way of Ifrit's blazing counter.

It seemed as though the god was yet to bring forth his full strength; perhaps the human-sized body and limitations were throwing the creature off. Still, Noct did not wish to fight long enough for him to regain his skills.

This was precisely the situation they needed Ignis for. He'd have analysed this, figured out a best way to prevent their foe, or incapacitate them. It was _frustrating_ to realise that gaping hole in their tactical capability could become exposed so easily.

The connections snapped into place then, and Noct lurched to a halt as the idea crossed his mind.

 _Ignis' mind is trapped by Ifrit...but Ifrit is trapped by Ignis' body. And all the limitations that come with it_...

"Prompto!" Noct called, waving one arm quickly to gain the attention of the gunslinger, "We're gonna fight him where Rostro plays!"

The seemingly disjointed utterance brought confusion to the blond's face as he caught Noct's eye; Rostro was the name Prompto had given his Chocobo, a creature that unlike the other steeds the group hired, always seemed adamant to charge headlong into—

" _Oh!_ Gotcha! Wait...aw _man,_ you _so owe me_ for this!" Prompto complained, realising the prince meant for him to act as bait. Groaning, he fired another shot that glanced off of Ifrit's stolen daggers. The man rounded on Prompto, eyes flooded with red and narrowed on him. "Man, if _you're_ the god that's been bitching about humans not worshipin' him enough, I can see why! You're slow as he— _ah!"_ Prompto leapt out of the way of two flame-shrouded daggers that quickly tore towards him, grinning a little. Ifrit was far more arrogant than Ignis, it seemed.

He didn't have long to gloat before the god appeared before him in a wreath of ashes. From these close quarters, Prompto noted that Ignis' skin seemed to be slowly glimmering bronze like the paintings of Ifrit he'd half-acknowledged in the past.

"Too slow." His voice cracked a little in fear of the rage of one of the Six, but he still found it within him to turn tail and run like his life depended on it.

From the sounds of grass and trees creaking and scorching behind him, it did.

Seeing Prompto bolt and be hunted down by the infuriated god, Gladio turned to Noct.

"Wanna share the plan?"

Already, the prince was running through the burnt wake of their friends.

"Prompto's Chocobo loves rivers, remember?"

* * *

His lungs were burning, his legs aching, but he found the thought of some hell-bound pissed-off god chasing him was suitable fuel to keep running.

Prompto would have prayed that Noct's plan would work, if he didn't have the utmost faith in his prince.

His boots ground to a halt at the water's edge. It was a small lake, one Noct used for fishing once or twice on their travels, and he figured if the dark haired man was in pursuit he would expect to find this area.

Turning, blue eyes went wide as he realised just how close Ifrit was to catching him. Daggers summoned to near-clawed hands caused Prompto to cry out:

" _Noct, now what?!_ "

From behind the incoming fire, he heard the reply.

" _Duck!_ "

So, he did. He curled up, hands over his head, and clung to the faith that Noct would not let him be skewered and roasted in some ironic death by their resident cook.

The shout from behind him caught Ifrit off-guard, and the man whirled around in time to see the prince giving chase. He readied his daggers before realising Noctis held _none_ , and was not slowing his pace.

Noct jumped and slammed into Ifrit bodily, arm encircling Ignis' waist despite the flames of Ifrit that cloaked him beginning to burn at the prince's skin. The pair tore over the curled form of Prompto, and landed heavily in the lake behind him.

Unfurling, the blond turned to the wildly rippling water, eyes frantic as he searched.

**" _Noct!"_**

* * *

_It felt as though his flesh were being flayed from his bones._

_The sudden cold brought Ignis' dreamscape flooding with murky waters, and the man tried in vain to warm himself by wrapping his arms around his torso. It didn't make sense, for the fire god to warp his mind into some hellish deluge of cold._

_It was then that he noticed his feet were freed, no longer pinned down by the will of Ifrit._

**_He_ ** _was free, for now. And he would waste no time regaining control of his senses._

 _Ignis staggered through the rising water, vision starting to swim and blur. There was a figure over him, and for a moment, he thought perhaps it was the consciousness of the god housed within his head. And yet, as he walked closer, he felt his legs start to slow, arms faltered and the figure before him cleared a little to rev_ eal dark hair, lightly waving with the current around them.

Ignis opened his eyes, realising then what was his dream and what was painful reality. Alas, the sensation of his skin screaming in agony was reality. But so too was the face of Noct. The man seemed to be embracing him, though why in the stars the pair of them were _submerged_ in the coldest water Ignis could ever recall, he had no idea.

 _Noct..._ He wanted to speak, to ask what was happening.

The prince took a moment to regard his friend, looking for any traces left of Ifrit's wrath. Seeing none, he grabbed Ignis' arm and began swimming up, carrying him along. It was a struggle, one that was aided by the sudden crash in the water's surface above them. Gladio grabbed Noct by the scruff of the neck and hauled the pair up and out onto the river bank.

Noct crawled a few inches, coughing up a little water and dredging a hand over his hair to pull the sopping mess from his eyes. He spared a glance over to Ignis – the man was conscious, sitting on the ground, missing his glasses and with his light brown hair utterly flat and sticking over his forehead. His skin was shivered, his teeth chattering, but otherwise, he seemed to have returned to them.

Inwardly, Noct wondered how long the Infernian would be subdued by water. No doubt the god in his full potential wouldn't be hampered so easily, and right now, they were under the graces of Ifrit adjusting to his vessel as much as Ignis was himself.

Any confusion Ignis had in the situation was quickly answered by the silence and stares of the group. A crippling notion of _shame_ dragged his heart down, and he would have looked away, had a blot of red not caught his eye. Though his vision was poor without his glasses, he could see well enough to notice that—

"Noct, you're hurt." He got to his feet and headed to the prince, who was getting to his feet slowly. Ignis made to hold Noct's burnt arm, but his own hands falters, as if he feared harming him any further. "I...I'm sorry..." He could feel his composure starting to splinter in the wake of the realisation that his own failure to control Ifrit has resulted in harm upon Noctis.

The prince shrugged it off.

"It's fine, it'll heal..."

"Maybe. But who's to say it won't be worse next time?" Gladio folded his arms across his chest. He didn't want to be the one to say it, but it seemed the other three were happy to ignore the raw facts at hand, and it was that precise idealism that had landed them in this situation at all. "Iggy nearly torched us all, and it's pretty obvious from our run-in with Titan that what we just saw was a _fraction_ of what Ifrit is capable of. Once he's got himself sorted and used to his new vessel, who's to say we'll be able to stop him next time?"

"Gladio, I already told you, we're not leaving him beh—"

"Gladiolus is right."

Ignis' clipped tone cut over the impending argument, fuelled by his own guilt. He turned his eyes to Noct, the irises having returned to the stark rubies against white as before. "As much as I would wish to stay, I cannot continue as part of this group if I only present a constant _threat_. We are unprepared— _I_ am unprepared—for stopping Ifrit. Until such a time when we can figure out how to give you his blessing, I am more a hindrance than a help."

Though his voice was ribboned with sadness, he knew the truth of his words. His conversation with Ifrit still rung in his mind; the god intended to warp the world into his own daemonic image, to punish mankind for their abandonment and arrogance. To gift them the war they craved, as a mockery of a god bequeathing a blessing begged for by its people. And to do that, he would remove mankind's only hope from existence.

Ignis would not continue to be a threat to Noctis.

"So...what are you gonna do? Self-imposed exile and train on the mountains?" Prompto asked, "Dude, we are _not_ gonna let you live in a cave and come find you in five years time rocking some crazy beard. There's gotta be another way." He stopped then as he noticed all three of his friends were staring at him. Or, more precisely, _past_ him. Prompto sighed, shoulders sagging. "...She's right behind me again, isn't she? Whatcha got for us this time, riddle-maker?"

Gentiana smiled as she glided by Prompto, her expression ever-relaxed. She seemed to find him the more amusing of the group, and had a tendency to appear in his shadows during her sporadic visits.

"If I speak in riddles, perhaps that is simply because you expect me to have the answers you seek. I do not. I can only give you what I know...interpret that as you will."

Ignis looked away from the woman, feeling an odd _bile_ rise in his throat as he watched her. He had been lightly aware of a distaste growing for Gentiana's presence when she had appeared to them in the hotel when Ignis had first been cursed with the god's presence. Now, he found it difficult to look at her without feeling _anger_ surge in his veins. He presumed this was more Ifrit's response than his own, but the fact it could present itself so starkly in his mind and effect his mood was concerning to say the least.

"Your last advice proved next to _useless_." Ignis noted with a snap, despite trying to push away the misplaced distaste. "Noct absorbing fire elemancy from me did little to subdue Ifrit, nor enhance my own ability to remain in control of myself."

This tone seemed to knock the smile from Gentiana's face, and she tilted her head to the side a little to regard the man. She was well aware that her presence would be enough to infuriate her wayward brother the Betrayer, and yet, it was odd to see Ifrit's fire on another man's tongue.

"I had merely hoped. I apologise if the effects were not as potent as we had hoped. But it seemed the better option at the time."

"Option?" Noct found himself starting to grow irritable now, the events of the day and Gentiana's words culminating in an exhaustion that tainted his tone, "So you missed out giving us another _option_ last time."

"Deliberately, yes. The other option has a cost I did not think you would be willing to pay."

"And perhaps those around me would be _courteous_ enough to let _me_ decide what price I am willing to pay, instead of assuming I am happy to be left as a ticking time-bomb simply to appease their moral compasses!" Ignis felt those words were perhaps more his own than Ifrit's this time. While he didn't doubt Gentiana's fair intentions when withholding the information, he found it insulting to be decided for. Apparently adhering to this, the Messenger nodded.

"Very well...you know of the covenant the Oracle seeks?"

"She wakes the gods, they judge Noct worthy or not, give him a blessing, Crystal's a good 'un." Prompto summarised quickly, and a little proudly. Gentiana smiled at him, before continuing.

"Yes. In this way, the Six are linked freely to the king. They will appear of their own free will in a time of need, and support the king in their own right. Perhaps we seem fickle in this, but the covenant keeps us free to extend our will to others as well as aiding the king.

"But there is another way one can bind to the Six."

Ignis felt a _blaze_ surging in his chest; whatever Gentiana was about to tell the group, Ifrit did not wish for them to know it. He gritted his teeth, jaw tensed, and looked away again, trying to afford himself whatever control he could over the situation. The Messenger continued:

"In eons passed, there have been noble kings...and wicked kings...some have sought the Six's aid, others _demanded_ it. And with the bloodline of the Lucii, some forged a type of covenant known as a concordat. With it, the spirit was bound to the king, to be summoned at his beck and call rather than at the god's will. Where a covenant would see the Six rise at their freedom to support the king, a concordat would force them to arrive at the king's command. Their powers were shackled to the king's instructions...it is not a treaty the Six speak of."

Noct could see why – a concordat with the Six sounded horrific, and the knowledge of it brought to light that the Six could be _controlled_ by mortals. In this wartorn world, if such knowledge were free to all, it would be a matter of time before an empire or kingdom attempted to subjugate the Six as weapons of their own.

"...And if I enter a concordat with Ifrit, what happens to Ignis?"

"Ignis _is_ the Infernian now, for all intents and purposes. He would be bound in the same pact."

"Out of the question, then. I'm not going to take his free will."

"Didn't you just?" Ignis approached Noct, noting the alarmed look spreading on the dark haired man's face. "Noct...in denying me the choice, you _are_ restricting my freedom. You _know_ I do not care to continue as a walking menace among the group. My priority had, and always will be, your safety. If a concordat would provide this, then—" He recoiled a moment, feeling Ifrit regaining his strength from being submerged in the river; the god would likely rise soon to voice his _disagreement_ at the prospect of a concordat. "—then I _trust_ my spirit in your hands, Your Highness. I cannot imagine you would use a concordat for ill, nor as a means to control me beyond keeping Ifrit in check."

"Of course I wouldn't, but Ignis...you'd be..."

Noct turned away, losing words in his throat. It felt like one step closer to removing Ignis' humanity and treating him more and more like one of the Six, something beyond them, something _further away_. That, and the prospect of being responsible for his free will, even though he would never dream of using such a thing as a weapon, turned his heart.

"There is something you should be aware of." Gentiana noted, seeing the turmoil in Noct's mind. "As I said, the Six loathe the rite of concordat. As long as a king has a god bound under the concordat, that god will not be able to bequeath their blessing upon him."


	7. Chapter 7

If Ignis was a stubborn man, then surely the prince was a _mule_.

Despite the concern of Gladiolus and the insistence of Ignis, Noctis refused to enact the rite of the concordat. Though the man did not doubt His Highness's reluctance was based mainly around the concern of essentially revoking Ignis' free will, he also felt there was another motivation that stalled the would-be king's hand.

_He worries I am becoming less and less myself. Less a human, and more one of the Six._

It was a bizarre thought, one that Ignis had opted to ignore in favour of focusing on the matters immediately at hand. He understood, of course, that for all intents and purposes, he was the Infernian now. Despite the growling visitor in his mind, the fact that the spirit of flame resided within him branded him as such. And yet, though he understood it, he did not truly _accept_ it.

Perhaps, on a more primal level, he _refused_ it.

But he could not refuse to acknowledge the danger at hand, even if the prince seemed willing to allow the group's safety to ride merely on faith that Ignis would spontaneously learn to control Ifrit Or, that they would be lucky enough to contain him should the flames rise again.

Having fetched his spare pair of glasses, (much to his dismay, it seemed his usual pair were long lost in the river now), he quickly made himself scarce with a knowing nod to Gladio. Perhaps without his presence, Noctis would be more obliged to listen to reason, to see the bigger picture beyond his own concern for his friends.

He walked through the streets of Lestallum, keeping to the back alleyways and quieter paths. It seemed like some strange comfort to him, to assume that if he did lose control of Ifrit's fire, that the immediate vicinity would be barren. Logically, he knew this was a vain hope.

His feet brought him to the library on the outskirts of the city; he had noted it on their way in, though he was sure he was likely the only one of the group who had. An old, ornate building, it seemed as though it was mainly left for nostalgia of its citizens rather than frequent use. Indeed, the lone librarian within seemed a little alarmed at Ignis' presence, though perhaps it was partly due to the late hour.

Wandering through the dust-swirled hall, a gloved finger traced along the rows of books. Ah, but of course there would be plenty on the Astrals. Though the worship of the gods may have dwindled, mankind's delight in tales of magic and creatures had not. He knew a great many of the tomes here would refer to the Oracle's ability to the rite of the covenant...but he wondered if any would refer to the more binding alternative of the concordat.

He wondered still if any would refer to anything _else_. Could there be another way still, to keep Ifrit from scattering Ignis' mind to ashes and taking claim of him as a vessel? Ignis felt he was looking more for Noct than himself, but hadn't he always worked for his king's hopes rather than his own?

The man brought down a few of the more promising looking books, gathering them in a small pile, before settling himself down at a table in the corner to read.

Red eyes flicked quickly over the words, scanning the volumes for any hints or leads. He wasn't sure how many pages he had scoured when a voice abruptly dragged him from his research.

"Perhaps I ought not judge a book by its cover, but you seem like the type of man who would know the tales of the Six like the back of your hand..."

The lazy drawl already brought a slight upturn of disapproval to Ignis' lips, and he barely looked up from his book.

"And you seem like the type of man who ought to have more on his plate regarding Niflheim rather than stalking a small group across Eos. _Chancellor_."

Grinning like a fox, and wearing all the slyness of one with ease, Ardyn Izunia seated himself opposite Ignis without invitation. He picked up one of the books from the pile, flicking it open and looking through it listlessly.

"Alas, the Empire runs like a well-oiled machine. One finds _boredom_ settles in sometimes with such order."

" _Tragic_..."

"Oh, but it is!" Ardyn set the book aside once more, apparently not discouraged by Ignis' lack of interest, "Your little roadtrip looked far more _fun_ than the dull ploddings of political meetings...you can't blame an old man for wanting to get away from all that."

"Hmm..."

Ignis made a point of licking his finger and turning the page of his book _very_ slowly, still not looking up at Ardyn to grace him with any kind of acknowledgement. The man was suspicious in the least, and worrisome at most. Aside from his ties to the Empire and strange interest in seemingly aiding Noct, the man drove Ignis to discomfort in a way he couldn't quite reason with. He feared giving the man _anything_ , even _eye contact_ , would be enough leverage for his little game.

Whatever game that was. Ignis, despite his quick mind, was still piecing together this strange man's goals.

"So tell me..." To his dismay, Ardyn seemed intent on talking to him, "...when one travels with the _True King_ , one who already has the Titan to shield him and the Oracle to form covenants through, what need have his trusty followers to be researching how to commune with the Six? Don't you four have that rather covered by _nature_?" The violet-haired man turned over a few more books from the pile, looking at the covers with mild interest. Ignis' eyes flicked up under his brow to consider the motion for a moment, before he replied simply:

"Preparation. His Highness may have the covenant in his bloodline, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for any eventuality."

This only seemed to bring a glitter of mischief to Ardyn's eyes, much to Ignis' chagrin. For a moment, he dwelled on simply leaving, scooping up a few books and heading back to the hotel. Surely the Chancellor would not be so bold as to follow him there.

"Expecting _confrontation_ , are we? If the tales are true, four of the Six ought to be amiable enough to your _quest_...Leviathan, by all accounts, can be a little **bitter** , but I'm sure you can talk her round. But I wonder how you hope to sway the mind of Ifrit..."

He tone almost _laughed_ as he trailed away with the thought, drumming fingers on his lower lip in a mockery of musing. "The Betrayer of the Six...and yet, his blessing still counts towards being accepted by the Crystal. Cruel fate...how _do_ you plan to deal with that little wrinkle, I wonder?"

Ignis pointedly ignored him.

Somehow, the man seemed to draw fuel from this. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between them, and purred:

" _Or did you already fail?_ "

The snapping thought wondering if Ardyn knew anything of recent even, or whether he was just bluffing, brought Ignis' focus from his book finally to regard the man before him, tracing his face with sharp eyes to try and find any tell that the man was merely prying.

Then he realised his error.

He'd looked up.

Ardyn drew in a breath, leaning back in his chair and pursing his lips. Though his action was one of surprise, Ignis couldn't help but feel he wasn't truly shocked.

"Ah, dear Ignis...whatever happened to your eyes?" He asked blandly, no true question behind his words.

Ignis closed the book before him with a snap, eyes not leaving Ardyn's own amber orbs.

"Something must have risen my _blood pressure_..." He replied dryly, head tilting to the side a little, "Why are you here, Chancellor?"

The man raised his hands in an open shrug, smile still playing on his lips. The lazy drawl, the arrogance that washed from him, the masks and smoke and mirrors...it all played poorly against Ignis' own personality, and for the life of him, he _loathed_ the man quietly. Still, he wouldn't allow personal opinions from hampering the potential to information.

"Isn't it obvious? Your lot are wandering around poking sleeping gods in the eyes. Even the ones considered _warm_ to humanity tried to flatten the area as a result. The Empire is a little concerned of what might happen when you rouse Leviathan or Ifrit, our two _grumpier_ gods...we exhausted one method to try and prevent disaster—"

"Murdering Shiva, you mean."

"Alas, it seems such an act is not without cost. We could not hope to bring down all of the Six before the prince reaches them. We have been looking at...alternate routes."

A smiling mask met a carved face of calm, neither man yielding. Ignis didn't even _blink_ , even if his mind was racing through multiple lines of thought and theory as to what Ardyn was suggesting. In the back of his mind, Ifrit _grumbled_ in his own distorted language, though Ignis couldn't make out what the god muttered.

"So, despite your claims of wishing to help Noct, you still seek to prevent his blessings?"

" _Au contraire_ , Mr Scientia!" Ardyn beamed, leaning forward again closing the gap between them. Ignis did not flinch, and merely looked down his nose at this Cheshire Cat of a man before him. "I've come to help once more! You see, I keep _tabs_ on all the little _scurryings_ of the Empire and, of course, I am a man of duty. I seek what is best for this land. Perhaps, despite being a man of the Empire, I understand that the prince ought to have his blessings for the good of us all."

"Care to share that sentiment with the Emperor?" Ignis suggested, sarcasm dripping thickly from his words, "He seems a tad _confused_ regarding Prince Noctis' goals and _ceasing_ the Starscourge from devouring us all."

"Power _blinds_ , dear Ignis." Ardyn offered by means of explanation, though he couldn't help but sense a tone of _threat_ to his words. "The Emperor worries that if the Prince has the blessing of the Six, he wouldn't merely stop at ending the daemon issue. He might fight back against the Empire! And then where would we be?"

"Where indeed."

" _So!_ " Ardyn clapped his hands together, and made to rise from his seat, "The Empire looked for means to _hamper_ the Six. To seal them away, even if temporarily. To stall Noctis until we can be sure that he only means to end the Starscourge, and not _us_."

Ignis leaned back in his chair then, steepling his fingers as he regarded the information presented. Ardyn spoke of _temporary measures_. But the advisor heard only one true goal:

"You mean to blackmail him." He stated coolly, "To seal the Six away and only allow Noctis access if he agrees to your terms."

"Perhaps that's one way of looking at it. Consider it a protection of the people's best interests. But, perhaps I am here to offer you what we have found. I could tell you how to _seal away a god_ , to prevent it from wreaking havoc as you wake them. Might make those blessings a little easier."

 _It could answer my prayers_ , Ignis thought, _if the Empire has a means to seal away the Six...perhaps I could use it to seal away Ifrit. Noctis wouldn't have to invoke the concordat..._

"It would certainly be helpful for us to be able to control the situation of waking the gods a little more. Sealing them as we wake them could prevent displays of wrath such as we saw with the Archaean." He wouldn't allow the Chancellor to know how valuable his words truly were. "But at what price does your _helpful nature_ come with?"

A flash of teeth behind a wicked grin brought the hairs on the back of his neck on end as Ardyn replied easily.

"I tell you how to bind the gods, you don't drown me with the Leviathan or burn the world to cinders when you wake up Ifrit. I bet he isn't a _morning_ person..."

Something was pulling _strangely_ with the man's offer. Here he was, standing before him with a perfectly timed answer to Ignis' issue, a means to seal Ifrit away safely until they could figure out how to get his blessing, and bring Ignis back to complete control of his mind and body without risk of the Infernian's wrath at any moment...and not a _peep_ from Ifrit. If the god in his mind feared being bound away, he didn't voice it.

He wasn't certain Ifrit could hear what he could...perhaps that would answer that concern. Still, Ignis felt unnerved by his strange silence. But the advisor's desire to keep his friends safe, to keep Noctis happy, overrode his concerns for the moment.

The desire to be himself again without fear of burning his loved ones to ashes in a moment clouded his judgement for a brief second.

"Then we would gladly accept your help." Ignis managed to force himself to say semi-politely, noting the elegant delight ghost over Ardyn's features.

" _Marvellous_." He replied, before rummaging in his coat. After a moment, he produced a small roll of paper from his inner pocket, torn and aged. He handed it to Ignis, who took it and unfurled the paper, smoothing it on the desk with his hand. The words upon it made little sense to him, before the ink slowly began to form legible words. He realised then it must have been written in the same language the Six spoke, a strange sound that nonetheless made inexplicable sense to humans who heard it. Could the same be said for their written words?

"That is a spell wrought directly from the Crystal itself. Written eons ago, it is said it was written by the Fulgurian himself as a means to bind Ifrit—"

 _Convenient_ , Ignis mused bitterly, but couldn't allow his suspicions to trump his concern for Noctis—

"—when he betrayed the Six. I imagine, however, the effects would be the same to all gods, if enacted in their presence. Can you read it?"

"Of course."

Ardyn placed his hands on the table, leaning over and lowering amber eyes to the paper. He wasn't looking at Ignis and, he realised to his horror-

"... _I wasn't talking to you._ "

-he wasn't addressing him anymore either.

The silent Infernian now rumbled from his apparent indifference and, far too quick for Ignis to cling to, Ifrit blazed to the forefront of his mind. Evidently still recovering from Noct's previous attack, the god nevertheless managed to wrench control from the human with ease; unlike his previous command of Ignis, he didn't gain full control of his body. He let Ignis _hear_ and _see_ exactly what was going on, either through spite or necessity, though when he spoke, Ignis found it wasn't _his_ voice that came out, but the garbled tongue of the Infernian.

" _...You will fully summon me the_ _ **moment**_ _the concordat is enacted. And you will break my chains to it the_ _ **moment**_ _I have regained my strength and burned away this mortal entirely._ "

Ignis felt his heart pounding in his chest as he realised exactly what the small scroll Ardyn had handed him was. The means to invoking the concordat; _how?_ If Gentiana was to be trusted, only the royal bloodline could—

"Agreed." Ardyn smiled, "You'll be bound to me but for a moment, and I shall free you the second your summoning is complete. And in return...I expect you to come to my aid if I require it. I'll break the real chains you wear, Ifrit...but do remember your _debts_ to me then, won't you?"

Ifrit snarled through Ignis' lips, curling to show teeth.

" _...Agreed_."

A bargain between the Empire and the Infernian, Ignis realised that Ardyn meant to bind Ifrit to the concordat in order to demand the Infernian rise in full. If he did so, surely he would regain his until-now dulled powers and, by extension, easily overpower Ignis and claim control of his body for his own vessel. It seemed a huge risk by Ifrit, to believe Ardyn would then break the bonds of the contract between them after this was finished, but what trust Ifrit had in the Chancellor, Ignis did not have time to muse on.

Dragging up what willpower he had, he tried to stand, to get away, to _run_ , to prevent whatever was about to happen. His legs lurched clumsily, and he availed nothing. His hand scooped up the paper without his command, and Ifrit began reciting the pact upon it with ease.

It was _agony_. His skin scorched once more, and for the life of him Ignis could _feel_ invisible chains dragging over his skin, scratching across his bones. His vision was darkening away as Ifrit tore Ignis' grasp of his mind with ease, and he vaguely saw Ardyn's lips moving, no doubt commanding his new summoned spirit to take control of his vessel. As the concordat decreed, it was a command Ifrit would both have to, and gladly, obey.

 _Another weapon for the Empire_... Ignis thought meekly as the darkness began to drown his consciousness, _oh gods...I have become another weapon for the Empire._

_Prompto. Gladio. Noct._

_...don't let me be..._


	8. Chapter 8

The last thing he saw before the darkness dragged him away from his own mind, relinquishing control to the clawed grip of the Infernian, was Ardyn's grinning face.

Prompto. Gladio. Noct.

...don't let me be...

Something lurched in his head, the feeling of falling within a dream and jolting awake in one's bed, and suddenly, his eyes were open once more.

Ignis sucked a breath in sharply, eyes a little wide in shock as he looked around.

"...Hey, you okay?"

He recoiled a little at the voice next to him, before looking at his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of one of the winding streets of Lestallum, the sun setting across the top of the buildings. A concerned woman was standing next to him, overalls heralding her work position at the power plant. Red hair was pulled up in a messy bun, framing a face streaked with dirt from a day's work. She placed one hand on her hip and regarded Ignis.

"Well finally. You've been standing there for a little while now. You get lost?"

"Ah..."

Ignis took a step back, confusion slowing his usually quick mind. What had happened? Ifrit had wrought control of him, fuelled back to his full power far more quickly than he ought to do to the concordat formed with Ardyn. When Ardyn had summoned Ifrit, the rite forced him to obey, casting Ignis aside.

Then how...

He looked back over his shoulder. The library was a good distance away, and Ardyn was nowhere to be seen. Had he imagined the whole encounter? No...

Surely this was a trap. He wracked his mind for any sound of the usually ever-present growls of Ifrit, to find nothing but silence. Had Ardyn kept his part of the deal and released Ifrit from the concordat once he had regained control? If so, why was Ignis in control now?

A trap.

The words were stark in his mind, obvious and terrifying all at once. Perhaps Ardyn had not broken the concordat just yet, and had kept Ifrit under his total command.

Perhaps he had commanded Ifrit to allow Ignis to take control once more, that he would return to the group and leave the Chancellor with a wild card within Noct's life. With every passing day, Ignis seemed to be dragging his friends further and further into the fire.

"...Lost may very well be the word I am looking for." Ignis managed to reply to the woman, before bowing a little. "My apologies."

She didn't seem convinced, but shrugged and gestured to the right.

"If you're looking for the hotel, it's over that way. You look like a tourist sure enough."

Ignis gave his thanks quickly, before making for the hotel. He had to inform Noct of the impending danger of the Empire. Their own stalling had wrought Ifrit into a weapon for their enemy, and now, there was no question of what the prince wanted or not. Ignis had to be dealt with, sealed away from others to keep them from the Infernian. If the fates were at all kind, perhaps they could find a way to keep Ardyn from being able to summon Ifrit at his whim. They had to move fast and—

So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he barely registered the blur of yellow and black leather before it crashed into him. Both parties were sent sprawling to the floor, and Ignis felt his blood roil. Truly, this day was crafted to wound him.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I wasn't—Iggy?!" Prompto's voice sounded above him, and quickly he found himself pulled to his feet by his friend. Prompto looked a little dishevelled, and yet, a smile broke out across his face at the sight of Ignis. "Dude, where have you been?! We've been looking everywhere! Well...I've been looking everywhere. Noct has just been searching every café in the city, he was convinced you'd be drinking the nation's supply of Ebony or something..."

Ignis's gloved hands clapped on Prompto's upper arms, stopping the man in his ramble. He had to tell him of the danger, to warn him that he might warn the others.

"...I apologise for putting you through so much trouble."

Ignis blanched, tensing as he let go of his friend. What? That was not at all what he had intended to say. Indeed, the ferocity of his movements clashed with the rather bland words, and Prompto looked Ignis up and down in confusion, before raising his hand to the back of head and scratching his hair awkwardly.

"Errr, sure. Bit intense there, but yeah, don't worry. You ok? Did you drink too much Ebony? 'Cause if Noct was right, I totally just lost a 30 gil bet."

Ignis turned back to Prompto, jaw muscle twitching in frustration.

Ardyn formed the concordat with Ifrit! He wanted to shout. And yet, nothing but a humble response tumbled out of his mouth:

"I was at the library."

Prompto beamed, putting his arms up in the arm in victory.

"Yes! Knew it! 30 gil to Prompto! But seriously, like, leave a note next time or something? You told us you were going out for a few hours, not a day and a half. Find a good book?"

His heart was hammering in his chest now, a panic rising that ever-stirred if he lost control of a situation. Ignis didn't function well without control, and he certainly didn't function well with the loss of his own words.

If he couldn't tell them what was happening, he would simply have to leave. It would hurt them, and wound Ignis' heart more than he could ever say, but if it meant keeping them safe, keeping them alive, then he would walk alone to the ends of Eos. But what good would it do? If the concordat bound Ifrit to Ardyn's beck and call, he could summon him in the blink of an eye half a world away...

All paths seemed impossible. To stay would be a danger, to leave would be futile. He wondered if he would be able to speak with Gentiana, if the Messenger would somehow be able to sense the concordat had been formed. Or, perhaps his best shot would be to speak with the Oracle, to ask her if she knew of such away to put the Six back to sleep as opposed to waking them. Perhaps that would sever the connection forged in the concordat.

All theories spun through his head, and he scarcely noticed he had begun walking with Prompto back to the hotel room. Was the best option for his friends for him to stay until they reached Lunafreya? Would she know more of the Six, perhaps know how to prevent Ifrit being summoned? Everything was such a risk...and why was Ifrit so silent all of a sudden?

"Thiiiiiiiirty gil please, Your Highness!" Prompto offered his open palm with a flourish to a tired-looking Noct as they entered the room, though the prince rolled his eyes at him then turned his attention to his advisor.

"You had us worried, Specs. I know it sucks to say this, but we have to keep an eye on you right now. You don't like being looked after, but you don't get much of a choice when a fire god's burning you up every other day."

In vain, Ignis tried once more to speak of what had happened in the library, to tell the prince himself of the concordat...

"...Are you telling me off for being reckless? How the tables have turned."

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. And yet, his emotions remained ever-buried under a perfect visage of composure.

* * *

Noct had taken the wheel again as they set off for Cape Caem. Ignis was glad for the offer; the worries swirling in his mind were glancing off his focus, skewing it and knocking it off course. Instead, he seated himself in the back of the Regalia with Gladio, and took a vague interest in the book the other man was reading. It seemed he had swapped his usual novel for a book on the Six. In fact, it seemed to be the only material any of them were reading these days.

"I thought we'd given up on our quest to find anything different written about the Six." Ignis offered by means of conversation, "It seemed to be the same tales written in different ways."

Gladio nodded, looking up from his book. His elbow was resting on the car door, head propped up in his hand.

"Yeah...I was taking a look at the records of blessings. Seems like in the past, the gods put kings through trials. Fights, really, like Titan did. People thought natural disasters that destroyed their homes were tests of faith from the gods, and that enduring would grant their blessing."

"It seems the gods' concept of a _blessing_ is rather different from our own." Ignis noted bitterly. He had no intention of becoming such a harbinger of destruction, and yet, it was no longer in his hands. It felt like only a matter of time before his control would be wrenched from him once more. He had been trying to find different ways to warn his friends of Ardyn; he couldn't write the words any more than he could say them, but he had tried speaking of the issue in a roundabout fashion, hoping one of them might clock onto the hints. But the hints were vague and convoluted at best, and Ignis was losing hope. He didn't wish to admit it to himself, but on more than one occasion, he had found himself wondering if his own human mortality was the only path to ending the danger Ifrit posed within him. Would the god go out of his way to protect Ignis' life in order to shield his own? Most likely, he mused, and the risk of igniting his wrath was too great. There _had_ to be another way.

Still, the thought dampened his spirit once more and he looked away and out to the rushing horizon at the side of them. The sun was setting, and they would need to set up camp soon. Not that Ignis required it; ever since becoming the vessel of the Infernian, sleep had not come easily to him, bar the times his fever clung to him so violently that he passed out for days on end. Luckily, it seemed these episodes were dispersing, and he seemed to be getting the hang of regulating his temperature once more despite the fire in his blood.

"Maybe you and Noct could just like, have an arm wrestle?" Prompto offered to the conversation, eyes glinting in the mirror to look at Ignis and Gladio.

"I already told you, Iggy can't give me Ifrit's blessing. We tried." Noct retorted.

" _Please_ tell me you tried with an arm wrestle."

"No. We just...well, he tried just sayin' it." Noct stammered, "Like...he said he gave me his blessing, but nothing happened."

"You gotta fight for it." Gladio pointed out, holding the book he was reading up, "Like with Titan. Think of it as training...only, Iggy has a flamethrower as well as daggers. I believe in you, Prince Noctis." He added the ending with a grin, "Prompto and I will be on standby with buckets of water."

"We can't fight." Ignis cut in, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers in frustration. "Chances are I would end up inciting Ifrit to fight in my stead. I may hold back the flames when fighting Noct, but he _certainly_ wouldn't. We cannot risk my losing control and truly endangering Noct."

"But what if you're underestimating him? What if Noct _could_ take on Ifrit? He took down Titan."

"Titan was _bound_ by the Empire, and we survived by the skin of our teeth. Ifrit isn't...bound...in the same...way." His last words came grinding out, at odds with the seemingly silent command that he could not speak to his friends of how Ifrit _was_ currently bound. "Until we are certain, we are _not_ engaging in a fight."

A silence settled over the group then, mulling over Ignis' concern.

"...But what about an _arm wrestle_? Seriously, I need to photo that. 10 gil on Iggy."

Setting up camp had become something of a soothing routine. Alas, soothing routines were _not_ Prompto's design.

The blond was nearly jumping around Ignis as he tried to cook. Though the man was doing his utmost to ignore him, Prompto was a man who _refused_ to be ignored.

"C'mooooon! I saw you light the stove like _that!_ " He snapped his fingers, "You could _totally_ light the campfire for me. You know I suck at getting a fire going...why'd Gladio even _give_ me that job?"

"I lit the stove with a _match_ , Prompto. I'm not going to risk bringing the Infernian upon our heads for the sake of grilled fish."

"It's just one spark!"

"Use a match, Prompto."

"You can totally do this, Iggy." He put a hand on Ignis' shoulder and looked at him over-solemnly. "I _believe_ in you."

"You _could_ ask our spell-conjuring prince?" Ignis retorted, cutting vegetables as doing his utmost not to look at Prompto. He recoiled, face crumpling.

"Er, yeah, _no_. Remember what happened last time? The dude's got three settings for his fire spells: big fire, bigger fire, _torch your mates_."

"...Point taken and experienced. Here." With one fluid movement, he produced a match and offered it to Prompto. The blond's shoulder slumped as he complained in response.

"Iggy, don't you think maybe you could try and learn your powers? I get where you're coming from, but the risk is only greater if you're scared of Ifrit. If you start small, maybe you could get a better handle on his powers for yourself? It might make a difference later? Start with a little flame for a campfire, or something?"

Perhaps he had a point, but Ignis couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it. He could have perhaps learned to control the powers of the Infernian, but it would avail him naught now, not when Ardyn could simply command him to act otherwise.

Instead, he lifted his foot and struck the match against the sole of his shoe and handed the now-lit stick to Prompto.

"There. I made you fire, gifted from the gods."

Prompto groaned, but took the match anyway and began walking to the dead campfire.

"You know I have a point!" He called over his shoulder. Ignis' expression slipped into one of sadness as he felt a small twinge of guilt in his heart. Somehow, he felt as though he was disappointing his friends by his resolution to refrain from investigating the Infernian's powers and means for blessing. But until they realised the chains around his wrists and neck, bound to the Empire, Ignis simply could not entertain the notion of bringing Ifrit willingly to their midst.

* * *

"I'm just saying, I don't think Ifrit's going anywhere. Maybe we ought to find someone who can help train Iggy to control his powers?"

Ignis rolled his eyes, fork pausing halfway to his lips. Prompto had now shared his idea with Noct and Gladiolus and, to his dismay, the two seemed warm to the concept. The theory was fair enough; less to fear if one controlled the issue. Ignis lived by that principle. But he was also aware of situations that were, by their very nature, uncontrollable. _Fire_ was one of them, and he wanted to keep as far away from it as possible.

"Alas, if Gentiana is correct, I am the first human to be a vessel for the gods. Ergo, there is no one alive who has experience who could teach me what to do. So perhaps we could cease this newfound hobby of speaking as though I am not here, and change the subject?" Ignis offered lightly ,before going back to his food.

The soft tapping of cutlery on plates remained the only sound for a moment, before Prompto broke the silence once more.

" _Soooo_...Gladio, you got a special someone waiting for you when we're done saving the world?"

 _Oh gods why_ , Ignis inwardly chastised himself. He'd managed to end one conversational disaster and open the door to a brand new hell.

"Not sure she's the type to be sittin' _waiting_. She's probably out hunting or something. But yeah, there's someone. Why, you scoping to make sure there's no competition here for Cindy?" Gladio asked with a grin. Prompto looked offended, though Ignis mused that perhaps Gladio wasn't far from the mark.

"No way! Cindy'll choose whoever she chooses! ...Y'know, I just hope it's me." He added, before looking over to Noct. "I mean, obviously you're set for life after all this with Lunafreya."

Noct smirked, holding up his hands in mock-surrender.

"Don't have to worry about me wooing Cindy."

"Oh my god guys, I am _not_ worried about you trying to win Cindy over." Prompto grumbled. "I'm just tryin' to make conversation here."

" _Suuuure_." Gladio responded, before jerking his head to Ignis. "But, y'know, what if Cindy likes the dapper gentleman type?"

Ignis pulled a face, having hoped to have avoided being dragged into the conversation. He inwardly cursed Gladio for bringing the attention to him, and made a mental note to have his revenge on the warrior. He looked at Prompto, and managed a half-smile of reassurance.

"...Not my type." He offered by means of assurance. However, Prompto seemed to take this as an insult to Cindy, and rose to the challenge.

"What are you saying? Cindy's great!" He retorted, nearly dropping his plate. Thankfully, Noct stepped in to save Ignis from Prompto's conclusion.

"No, _seriously_. She isn't Iggy's type." He repeated.

"Why not?"

Ignis could _feel_ the headache rising behind his eyes, and he groaned before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Noct gave a sympathetic laugh, before turning back to Prompto.

"Because..." Noct leaned forward to emphasise his next words. " _She_. Isn't his type."

Realisation dawned across Prompto's face with an accompanying " _Ohhhh_..." and Ignis could feel colour burning his cheekbones. Here it was, the question was going to present itself sooner or later.

"Before you even _think_ of asking me, the answer is _none of you, you vain lumps of Dolce._ " He replied to the unasked question swiftly and curtly, putting his glasses back on his nose and pushing them up with his index finger.

"What makes you think I was gonna—"

"You were going to ask."

"Was not."

"Really?"

"...No, I was totally gonna ask."

He couldn't help but smile a little, his previous frustration burning away under Prompto's fair-hearted humour, and he got to his feet to start collecting the dishes. As he reached Prompto, he took his plate and said:

"Gladio's _lying,_ by the way."

He walked away, dishes in hand, smiling as Prompto turned on Gladio and began accusing him of trying to _sneakily steal Cindy's heart_.

The smile faltered a little once he was away from the main camp, setting the dishes down to be washed. These moments, the calm and _ridiculous_ ones with his friends. Yes, these moment were the ones he cherished, and the ones he wished to protect from Ifrit at all costs. Red eyes stared listlessly before him as he considered this.

His Highness needed Ifrit's blessing. And running from that wasn't helping, in fact, he could very well be hindering the prince. He may not be able to tell his friends of the concordat with Ardyn, and physically running away wouldn't serve to protect them any more than if he stayed close by. Perhaps it was time to confront the Infernian himself, instead of waiting for the god to rend control of his own machinations...or by Ardyn's summons.

 


	9. Chapter 9

As the camp settled down for the night, Ignis remained awake. Settled in his sleeping bag by pretence alone, the man's mind was functioning as quickly as it did in his waking hours. In fact, he'd abandoned all hope of sleep and lay awake, garnet orbs staring up at the roof of the tent above them. The following day, they would be on a boat heading to Altissia to seek the Leviathan's blessing.

Falling asleep had become something of a concern of late, given Ifrit's last foray into controlling him had occurred as he slept. And yet, for the first time since this strange event had been bequeathed upon him, Ignis wanted to speak with the Infernian. Well, perhaps want was a strong word. Required may have suited his purposes better.

Sighing quietly through flared nostrils, Ignis closed his eyes, though he doubted sleep would regale him just yet. He wasn't quite sure what to do, and yet, he found himself scouring his mind for any little detail of Ifrit, the god who had fallen oddly silent since the bizarre dealings in the library days prior.

There.

A dull flame flickered in the back of his mind. With a lull that swept his consciousness towards it like a weak wave of the ocean, Ignis found himself drawn towards it. At first, the ember was barely noticeable, and the whole vision seemed like a fragile dream despite the lack of sleep.

But soon, Ignis became aware of his own feet pacing towards the flickering light. Looking down, he noted his shoes clicking across an unseen floor. He stopped, regarding the sensation for a moment. Had he fallen asleep so easily, or was this another mindscape drawn by the Infernian within him as a result of his prying. Ignis felt caution prickle across the back of his neck, recalling the last time he had battled with Ifrit within his own head; it had resulted with Ignis trapped and his friends squaring off against a half-powered, but entirely enraged fire god.

He would not be so easily tangled this time.

Ignis continued walking forward through the dreamscape, feeling the air beginning to heat around him, shivering and distorting under the increasing ferocity. The ember had grown to a blaze, and yet, he noted with some confusion, there seemed to be no attempt to strike. Ignis had come to expect wrath from Ifrit. What was this silence and subduing that he seemed fond of of late?

"Infernian. I believe we are overdue a talk." Ignis offered to the blaze, calm in spite of the dangers.

The fired dimmed, slowly recoiling to reveal the humanoid form of Ifrit. The flames cloaked him, distorting him from view for a second, as if the god was loathe for the other man to see him...before the fires disappeared down to simmering embers, casting the whole space in a burnt orange glow.

There, brought to his knees with his arms twisted up high behind him and embroiled in thick chains, was Ifrit. His head hung down, a mass of spiralling horns twisting out from his head behind him like some daemonic crown. Indeed, resting across his brow remained his gold-tooth-framed crown, though in his current state it seemed more in mockery than royalty.

Ignis sensed it was a wounded pride that kept Ifrit's tongue still, and he risked one step closer to the bound god. "So...this is a concordat. Looks rather more painful than a covenant. Begs the question why you would choose it."

A rumbling growl, no doubt soft to the Infernian, shook the ground under Ignis as the god raised its head, yellow eyes glowering from under a lowered brow and starting to flicker red in warning. A lip curled to expose teeth, and Ifrit finally spoke.

 **"Even a betrayer may pay his dues..."** He snarled, **"I have paid mine. The King of Light will pay his in time."**

"Noct?"

A scowled lip turned into a smirk at Ignis' response.

" **You stare only at the tiny brushstrokes of your own life, mortal...and fail to see the canvas."**

A gloved hand rested on his hip as he regarded Ifrit with barely veiled pity.

"You are hardly in a position for mockery, Infernian. It seems you are rather guilty of ignoring the bigger picture as well. You agreed to a concordat with Ardyn, bound yourself to these chains with nothing but his word that he would summon you back to your full strength and then sever the bonds. Given that I am still here, he has done neither of those things. An error of judgment on your behalf?"

The question was asked lightly, though the insult stung deep within Ifrit. He twisted and tore against his chains, muscles twitching and tensing as he did so. He settled back with a growl, defeated by the chains. Unless commanded, he could not strike Ignis.

**"I owed him a debt. In agreeing to the concordat, he is repaid. I may have believed he would free me...but the fact he did not changes nothing. I no longer owe him ought, and he now has a price to pay to me for this betrayal."**

"Then perhaps we now have grounds of compromise. A common enemy, and a common goal." Ignis began to pace around the god, noting his human appearance in spite of the god's apparent distaste for the species. Though his skin shone with a bronze hue, the right side of his body and entire right arm was marred with a swirling, ashen grey scar that stopped just above the knee, then continued at the shin to cover his bare right foot. If it was indeed a result of a wound, it was not the only scar upon the Infernian's body – three scars dragged across his chest and torso, as if some great claws had raked across his flesh.

His features were smooth and sharp, eyes piercing yellow and framed under a crown rather than eyebrows. Pointed ears protruded slightly from a mane of long, black hair that tangled around a huge array of horns of black and white and grey, grown so long and twisted in the eons that their spiralled out behind him like a mighty cloak. The horns were adorned with gold rings and chains, the same red gemstones embedded in them as decorated his crown and bracelets. He would indeed present a majestic sight...were he not crippled down by those chains.

Ignis tilted his head to the side and spoke again.

"I seek to aid the King in saving Lucis. To that end, we require your blessing. We require this concordat broken as much as you do."

Ifrit shot a glance to the side, staring down at the smaller creature.

 **"We may both desire the concordat to be broken...but I have no desire to do so and offer my blessing. I know what you would do with such power; you would end my Starscourge. We have no such common ground, human."** He spat the last word as an insult, and turned away from Ignis. " **And, unlike your pathetic band of insects, I am not bound by the march of time. Your time to save your world is running out. I can remain here as long as needed until an opportunity presents itself..."**

"Wrong." Ignis stopped his pacing then, coming to stand before the god with a face etched in stone, features unwavering as he confronted Ifrit. "If I die, you die. And next time, you won't be able to shift your consciousness. You shall be reincarnated from scratch, with no choice in the matter of what or who you become."

Ifrit snarled again, and he could see in the god's eyes a burning hatred. He didn't need to ask Ignis to know that the Glacian had been the one to give him that information.

**"Perhaps that is looking to be the opportunity I seek..."**

A hollow threat. Ignis felt little in means of connection to the god, but they did seem to share a common trait; they both liked control. Ifrit would not risk losing himself to a full reincarnation, for fear of forgetting who he was. He locked eyes with the Infernian, refusing to back down in this. Eventually, the god smirked at him.

**"You fly too close to the sun, Icarus."**

"A poor comparison. If my wings burn and fall...I'm dragging the Sun down with me."

A bitter laugh echoed and thundered, shaking the chains that held Ifrit in place.

**"The Sun? The Sun rises when it will, not when commanded. If I was ever the Sun for humanity, I am no longer. My fire will not bring you light, mortal. I seek to burn your world to darkened ash..."**

Ignis nearly sighed, rubbing fingers over the bridge of his nose in his usual habit.

"I am starting to think they had it wrong when they called you as fickle as fire. You certainly are not unchanging. You're as stubborn as a boulder..."

A silence fell between them, save for the crackling of embers that scattered the ground between them and occasionally leapt across the Infernian's form. They were at a stalemate, and yet, Ignis sensed neither of them wished to be so stubborn.

"Can we at least agree this concordat must be broken?"

**"And what after? Our goals upon freedom differ vastly, human."**

"Well, presumably, you're rather confident you can burn my consciousness out of existence and take over my body as your new one. So why would that trouble you? I in turn, am confident I can keep you at bay. Perhaps we shall agree that, once the concordat is broken, may the best man win."

Again, the thundering laugh battered down at all sides, though it did not reach Ignis' pride.

"Very well, Icarus! Free the Sun, and if the act doesn't set you ablaze, may the best man win!"

For the briefest of moment, Ignis nearly smiled in a self-assured victory over the god.

That was, until one of the chains slackened and fell to the ground between them with a crash. Both god and mortal paused, both sets of eyes falling upon the now still-chains. Ifrit raised his right hand, now freed, to level with his own topaz orbs, before looking across to Ignis.

**"...Or perhaps another offering has been made."**

More chains began to tremble and fall as the Infernian was summoned, free of his bonds until the concordat's orders were fulfilled. In an echoing command that engulfed his mind, Ignis heard a familiar voice call out:

_I summon thee, Ifrit..._

"No!"

Ignis whirled about, as if to confront Ardyn even within his mindscape, but quickly found the action to be in vain; the world around him was dousing in flames, and the Infernian rose behind him. A dry chuckle mocked him, a voice that belong neither to Ifrit nor Ignis purring:

_Come now...you didn't think I'd make the journey to the Leviathan that easy, did you?_

* * *

Gladio's brow furrowed in his sleep, the skin of his face starting to glisten a little with sweat. He rolled over, having long discarded his sleeping bag and opting to sleep on top of it, and absently rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Between the heat and the dull sound of writhing, Gladio was stirred awake. Blearily, he opened his eyes and slowly sat up, looking over to the source of the sound.

"...Ah hell..." He grumbled, shifting over to where Ignis was clearly in the throes of illness once again. He managed to grab a hold of the man's thrashing limbs, but immediately flinched back with a hiss of pain once his hand had connected. Even through Ignis' shirt, his skin was blazing hot enough to drag an angry red burn across Gladio's palm. " _Damn..._ "

He nudged Prompto awake with his foot, and turned to shake Noct awake with his uninjured hand. With the small tent, they were both easily reachable.

"Hey. Get up and help me with Ignis. He's burning up again." The episodes had died down of late, but were still frequent enough that it had almost become a routine. Still, he hadn't felt Iggy burn up _this_ badly before.

Prompto was the first to awake to the point of functionality, quickly heading to Ignis' side. Noct was always more difficult to rouse from slumber, but he did make a valiant attempt to move as quickly as he could. By now, Ignis was writhing and pained whimpers were escaping his throat.

"Help me get him outside, he'll burn us all up stuck in here." Gladio grunted, putting a sleeping bag between his hands and Ignis as he began lifting him. Prompto nodded, following suit and helping him lift him outside; Gladio could easily take the weight of the lankier man, but between his unsettled state and temperature, it was more the awkwardness of trying to get him still that required two people to wrestle him outside.

They managed to get him out into the cool night air, laying him on the grass. Wordlessly, Prompto went to fetch water before he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

"Er...guys...what is _that_?"

A small cut had split just at Ignis' temple and something sharp and blackened was starting to slit its way through. As if on cue, the man brought his hands to his head and rolled onto his side, curling up and starting to tremble. Nails began to elongate and curve into claws, his left hand darkening to a grey, a patterned swirl crossing his skin. The grass under him was quickly drying and dying, a circle of white-brown blossoming out across the green field with Ignis at its centre.

Gladio saw the danger first – he quickly grabbed Noct before he could protest, and pushed Prompto with his free hand on the square of his back, knocking him forward and encouraging him to run.

" _Get moving_!"

Mind catching up with him, Noct began to try and pull away from Gladio and break free, catching glances behind him as he all but dragged the prince away.

"Wh—no! We're not leaving him behind! Gladio, let g—"

Noctis managed to twist out of the warrior's grip and landed on the ground. Rolling across and onto his feet, the prince turned around to run back to Ignis, his feet grinding to a halt as he realised Ignis was no longer there.

Rising to his feet, towering over them, stood the form of Ifrit, the Infernian. The horned god turned to look at the group over his shoulder, flames summoning to his body and obscuring him under a bright blaze of formless armour. A giant sword was summoned to his side, a white hilt embedded with red jewels, and the creature lifted it with one hand with ease, turning to face Noctis in full.

Ifrit's heartless gaze settled on the specks before him. Ardyn's summoning had been at the command that he battle the prince and his entourage. No doubt there had been a reason why the man had not commanded him to specifically _kill_ the prince, but Ifrit cared not. Ardyn had not said he _couldn't_ kill the would-be king, and so, he would not be breaking the concordat's rules by doing so. If battling the prince resulted in a death Ardyn had not planned for, so be it. Ifrit would take that as one small victory against the mortal that seemed intent on betraying him.

One sweep of his sword was enough to send a heatwave slamming into the prince. He ignored the strange twinge in his hand that seemed to knock his aim a little, causing the blade to strike just a little too high.

 _Pathetic_ , Ifrit thought, _as predicted._

* * *

For the umpteenth time, Noct warped away mere seconds before flames crashed through the air towards him. Taking cover behind a rock, he scouted out for Gladio and Prompto. The blond's skin was marred with soot and burns, but he still fired resolutely upon Ifrit. His aim was a little off, Noct noted, firing at Ifrit's arms and legs.

 _He can't bring himself to shoot to kill_ , he thought, heart plummeting in shared understanding. Gladio, however, seemed to have steeled himself. Though his strikes came more resolute and intent than Prompto's, Noct could see it in the man's eyes that the fight was _shattering_ his soul.

Where Ifrit had no reason to hold back, the trio fought in fear that what they did to Ifrit would reflect on Ignis.

They had thought they had more time. From Gentiana's words, it had seemed Ifrit would need time to return to full strength and so completely take over. And yet, the Infernian had appeared so suddenly in their midst, without warning. Lip curling in frustration, Noct headed back out, throwing his sword towards Ifrit's head and using it as a means to warp closer. He struck at Ifrit's shoulder, the blade glancing off skin and fire, drawing no wound. His flurry of attacks continued until they finally broke through and seemed to do some damage to the god – Ifrit staggered back, dropping to one knee.

"Prompto, you're up!" Noct called, though he saw the pained expression on Prompto's features.

"R-right..." He stammered, aiming and firing at the Infernian. The bullet glanced off of the god's horn, and Noct could tell the misaim had been deliberate.

" _Prompto!_ "

"I'm...I'm sorry!" He was panicking now, at odds as to whether to save his friend...or save his friend. As Ifrit made to rise again, Gladio's greatsword came crashing down, buying them a few more seconds as the god reeled back again.

"Get it together! You think Iggy wants to wake up to our chargrilled corpses?!" He roared, swinging again at the Infernian.

 _Wake up_.

Was it possible? Right now, it seemed Ignis was long gone, with little hope of rending control back from Ifrit now. Did Gladio still believe he could? Noct settled his eyes on Ifrit's face again, searching for any hint that perhaps their friend could yet be reached.

 _Maybe the hints right here_ , he thought, looking towards Prompto. He'd been holding back the whole fight, making mistakes and misfiring repeatedly. _Yet he's still alive. Ifrit could kick our asses even on a good day for us...the state Prompto's in, he's easy pickings. But he's not even managed to knock him down yet._

_Ignis is holding him back._

It was a long shot, but it made sense. The Infernian was a god, and could have easily killed them by now, much less with them holding back their full fighting instinct. He could have incinerated them long ago.

He grasped onto that hope and threw his sword once more, this time aiming for Ifrit's crown. He warped up high, landing on the Infernian's twisted canopy of horns. Confused, the creature looked up, nearly knocking Noctis backwards, his free hand swiping at the prince. He dodged, he leap from branch to branch of Ifrit's horns, and yet, the god managed to catch him. In a vice-like and _scalding_ grip, the giant brought Noctis to eye-level, two burning red orbs that had burned from a yellowish amber to a bright crimson as the fight began. He tried to wrench himself free, but stopped and locked eyes with the god adamantly.

" _Ignis!_ I know you're in there!" He yelled, though it seemed to amuse Ifrit, "You're fighting for us, so fight _harder_ , dammit!"

Ifrit's grip _tightened_ , and Noct felt his ribs _screech_ in protest and he screwed his eyes shut. Still, the prince tried to wrench himself free, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of dark _hopelessness_ that his heart was so at fault to. What if he couldn't reach Ignis? What if there was nothing he could do to save his friend?

 _In eons passed, there have been noble kings...and wicked kings..._ Gentiana's words echoed in his mind. _Some have sought the Six's aid, others **demanded** it. And with the bloodline of the Lucii, some forged a type of covenant known as a concordat. With it, the spirit was bound to the king, to be summoned at his beck and call rather than a god's will...their powers were shackled to the king's instructions._

He had been loath to even _consider_ the option before, for fear of stripping Ignis of his humanity. He could not bear the guilt, the burden on his soul, of enacting the concordat. And yet...had he done so, perhaps all this could have been avoided.

Was it his duty to _suffer_ his choices for the greater good?

Would enacting the concordat now be the only way to save his friend?

As the flames began to ball around Ifrit's fist, Noct opened his eyes, irises glowing a pinkish-purple hue.

"Infernian!" He yelled, his voice finding a strength he never knew he had, "I am the True King, and I demand your power as my own!"

* * *

"..."

"...Noct?"

Noctis opened his eyes, finding himself standing on a shoreline. He could hear the waves crashing to his left, and he looked out across them meekly, confusion slowing his senses.

"Noct?"

The precise tone of Ignis' voice brought him into focus, and the prince looked in front of him to see the man standing there, looking as confused as he felt. It was strange, to see Ignis looking _confused_.

"Specs? Where..."

Ignis' brow knotted, a frown creasing his forehead a little as he stepped forward. He seemed to reach out to Noct, as if to test if he were real, before pulling back before his hand could make contact.

"You are where _I_ am trapped. Which truly makes little sense, unless you are a figment of my imagination..."

Noct blinked, looking down at his own hands, then back to Ignis.

"Err...nope. Pretty sure it's me. But I was just—"

 _Outside burning the crushing grip of technically-you-but-actually-Ifrit_? Noct decided to leave that detail out. Instead, he looked back across to the sea. "This is...this is where we first met. Dad said he found you on the Lucis borders. That you were some smart kid who was gonna be my advisor some day."

Ignis looked a little taken aback, before a ghost of a smile graced his lips.

"Yes. I'm...a little surprised you remember it as clearly as I do." He admitted, following his gaze out across the ocean. "You were learning to fish here. Cor was teaching you. You couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old, and you nearly fell into the sea trying to reel in a fish."

Noct allowed himself a small chuckle.

"Yeah, I remember that. I dunno who panicked more, Cor, Dad, or you. You didn't even know who I was."

"Forever condemned to _worry_ about you from that day forth."

They settled into a comfortable silence for a while, the breeze from the shore curling about them.

"...I tried to bind Ifrit to a concordat. I think I might have messed that up 'cause...now I'm here." Noct said, wondering aloud what exactly he'd managed to conjure for him to be trapped insides Ignis' _head_ with him. His advisor seemed to consider this fact, a stern expression of thought crossing his face that Noct knew heralded several different theories passing his mind at once.

"How did you try to initiate the concordat? We hadn't truly asked Gentiana _how_ to do one...I suspect we would require _something_." In truth, he **knew** they did; the scroll Ardyn possessed, the one Ifrit had read and bound himself with. Noct wasn't aware of it, but that was evidently the means to a concordat. Although, he mused, perhaps that was simply the hidden, taboo method for humans to bind the Six to a concordat. Gentiana had mentioned that such knowledge would allow mortals to summon the gods, and such knowledge would throw the world into chaos. But Noctis...was of royal blood, and the True King at that. Perhaps his powers extended beyond that need.

"I said _gimme your power, Infernian_. More poetically than that, but...basically that." Noct admitted.

Ignis mused on this a moment, before asking.

" _Infernian_ specifically? Or _Ifrit_?"

"Errr...definitely said Infernian. Why does that matter?"

Echoing Gentiana's words, Ignis replied: "Because for all intents and purposes I _am_ the Infernian. You cannot bind Ifrit to the concordat because he's already _bound_ to one. But I am not, it seems. Technically speaking, until Ifrit is subdued and relinquishes his grip on me and by extension, accepts that the Infernian has been reincarnated in me, there are _two_ Infernians. The old and the new."

Ignis' eyes went wide then in realisation: he had spoken of Ifrit's concordat, and his tongue had not been bound. Perhaps then, within his own mind, he was not privy to that command. Ah, but if Ardyn had commanded Ifrit to prevent Ignis from _speaking_ of the concordat, that would make sense. He had used his control over Ignis' body to physically stop him speaking about it. But within his mind, he wasn't really _speaking_.

He smiled a little, then felt the need to apologise. "I...would have mentioned sooner if I could. It seems I am not so tangled in Ifrit's claws here."

He explained to Noct everything that happened that day in the library: Ardyn's arrival and proposal for the Empire to help Noct rid the Starscourge in exchange for assurance he would not use his power to then usurp the Empire; the scroll, Ifrit and Ardyn's concordat, and subsequent betrayal.

"...Alas, it seems I could not speak of it in reality. But here, I'm technically _thinking_ it. You're just intruding on my thoughts." Ignis concluded, mock-accusingly at Noct.

The prince took a moment to absorb everything Ignis had explained, and the inner fear that Ifrit was currently under the control of the Empire.

"...So when I demanded the concordat with the Infernian, I was demanding it of _you_?"

"So it would seem."

Noct looked away again, a sadness dragging at his heart. He had said it in a moment of panic, as the only means to save Ignis. Now, now that he was confronted with it—

-a hand settled on his shoulder. Blue eyes locked onto red, and took strength in the small smile.

"For what it is worth, I accept—"

" _No,_ Ignis, wait, don't-!"

"—your command and bind myself to the concordat with you. The Infernian is at your command." He spoke over Noct, repeating the words he had heard Ifrit recite to Ardyn.

He felt the chains twisting around his neck and wrists, dragging him back and away from Noct, the scenery around them shattering and disintegrating as his mind rattled. He could hear Noct's yell, but he sounded suddenly so far away. It was all he could do to hope that Noct would forgive himself and do what he must.

* * *

Noct was thrown back into reality cruelly and suddenly. He felt the searing pain of burning flesh around his ribs, the crushing cage of Ifrit's grip around him. And yet, the king in his soul managed to find the strength to drag in a breath to his protesting lungs and speak.

"I summon you, Ignis!"

Again, his words were met with the bemused expression of Ifrit—before his expression shattered into one of purest _shock_. His hand relinquished its hold of the prince and Noct managed to warp away before he crashed to the earth below.

The god was doubled over, head in his hands, a growling groan reverberating around them as the Infernian battled with himself. Noct backed away, meeting up with the battle-worn Gladio and Prompto silently as he watched; Ifrit seemed to shrink before their eyes, though he still remained towering over them, he was several feet shorter than before. His horns began crumbling away, stopping to form a far shorter crown of horns around his head in the stead of the long twisting mass behind him. The tangled mane of hair shortened too, spiking upwards alongside his new, shorter horns, though it retained its dark tones. The marring grey scars disappeared from his left side, his whole body now uniform in a bronze-tinted skin.

The Infernian was brought to his knees, hands striking out to support himself and revealing his face – red eyes flecked with emerald, features having morphed into a face Noct recognised. Ifrit's sword that lay in the grass at his side scattered to sand, banished without its master.

Tentatively, Noct stepped forward, looking up at the towering new Infernian.

"...Ignis?"

Eyes flicked up to register the address, and Ignis pushed himself off of his hands to sit, legs folded beneath him. He took a moment to look at himself, turning his hands over to regard his hands, bracelets jingling a little with the movement.

And then...he looked down at his chest to see a greatsword protruding out of it.

Noct whirled to look at Gladio, noticing for the first time that whilst Prompto still had his weapon summoned, Gladio did not.

 _Ifrit didn't let go because Ignis was summoned back..._ He realised, recalling Ifrit's suddenly shocked expression, _He was distracted when attacking me...Gladio tried to protect me by-_

" _No!_ "

He turned back in time to see the Infernian fall to his side. As he did so, his form contracted further and further. By the time he hit the ground, Ignis was back to his human form, unmoving, as blood bloomed across his shirt encircling the weapon piercing through his chest.

 


	10. Chapter 10

_**"Now who is the betrayed?"** _

"...They didn't betray me."

_**"You're dying. By the hands of your so-called friends."** _

"They did what was right. Not what was easy."

_**"...It does not change the fact you are dying, mortal. You may be an Infernian, but you cling to your humanity. It will kill you."** _

"..."

_**"You think I will save you?"** _

"Out of necessity, yes."

_**"...Perhaps."** _

* * *

Noct near-collapsed to his knees next to Ignis' fallen form, scooping the man into his arms and banishing the greatsword from existence with his powers.

"No, no no no, come on Iggy...we just figured this out, you don't get to bow out now." Noct managed to ramble out, trying to ignore the gaping wound tearing in his friend's chest, his paling skin. He didn't need to ask; Prompto was at his side, rummaging through their supplies for potions and bandages, plumes of the Phoenix that they had been lucky enough to forage in their travels. The blond's face was set and stern, but Noct could see the tears prickling in his eyes. Hell, _Gladio_ was having a hard time keeping the tears from his own usually steadfast expression. He hovered close by, unsure if he was welcome to help.

"Noct, I—"

"Not now. We might only have a few seconds to save him, and I'm not wasting it arguing."

His words came out harsh and laced with anger, although the prince knew Gladiolus had only done what he had to. He had saved the king from burning to death at the hands of the Ifrit. He couldn't have known what Noct himself had learned only second prior.

Ignis could form his own concordat. If they made it through this, could he form his own covenant as well? Did he unknowingly hold the blessing of the Infernian over Ifrit now?

None of that truly mattered. Right now, he was not the Infernian, he was not a blessing-holder. He was Ignis, and he was his friend.

And he was dying.

* * *

**_"And if I let you die?"_ **

"Then Ifrit will have been betrayed by a mere _human_ and that human will have lived to tell the tale."

**_"...It seems to me if I help you, you would only continue to work against me, mortal."_ **

"I could agree to aid in your revenge against Ardyn."

**_"And of mankind?"_ **

Ignis opened his eyes again, to find himself standing before Ifrit within his mindscape. The god was, once more, shackled and chained by his covenant. But so too was Ignis, as he soon noted the chains binding his ankles to the ground. Ifrit noted them warily from where he was knelt, arms bound, head bowed, with a slight grin. Ignis' stoic expression remained despite his entanglement.

"You do not seem to be a creature without reason, Ifrit. I understand your desire for revenge on Ardyn. One must assume you have good reason to want revenge on mankind. The scholars would tell us it was simply born of your anger that mankind no longer prayed to the gods. That we could help ourselves, better ourselves, with our own work rather than begging for the gods' powers to aid us."

Ifrit snarled, though Ignis felt it was more from insult than accuracy.

**_"History...that's the tale penned by the victors, isn't it? I am not an avid reader of those stories, mortal..."_ **

Ignis sat himself down, cross his legs and regarding the god coolly.

"So tell me. As it is, I am likely to bleed to death anyway. And if I do, you'll finally end as well, and a third reincarnation will be born without your spirit lingering within them. A brand new Infernian. I wonder who they will become..."

Ifrit growled again, but Ignis knew he had nothing to fear of it. His words were true – right now, the man was in the grasp of death. Ifrit knew this well enough. If he wished to continue his revenge on mankind, he would need to cooperate and keep Ignis alive to-

**_"...The gods are not immortal. You know this already. We live for eons, time will never take us. But wounds. Battles. Blades. Yes...they can end us."_ **

Well. He hadn't expected the god to open up, despite his ushering for him to do so. Ignis settled back a little.

"As Shiva was."

**_"As Shiva was..."_ **

Ignis narrowed his eyes, sensing something in Ifrit's words that he had not yet heard from the wrathful god; _sadness_. He didn't ask about it, but noted it away in his mind. Why would Ifrit regard the fall of Shiva as a _sadness_ unto him? He had, after all, betrayed the Six and Solheim in the Ancient Era.

"And the Oracle?"

Ifrit looked up then, eyes narrowing in distaste. The creature that the gods fawned over, a messenger for the mortals. An idol cast in fool's gold...

**_"...The Oracle is the voice of the humans, gifted to communicate with the Six and to heal the darkness. Her connection to the gods is unique...and her calling to help the King means that yes; she harbours the ability to reincarnate us, should she need to. Bahamut deemed it a necessary evil, to bequeath such a power to the Oracle. I suppose I am to blame for that. We are able to choose our reincarnations, to an extent. But we do not live on within them."_ **

" _You_ did."

**_"I was able to remove my spirit from my physical form before it was torn asunder. I chose you as my reincarnation, but also my vessel. The Second Glacian died as her spirit was still within her body. She did not have time to remove her soul to another vessel, but she managed to choose the Messenger Gentiana as her next reincarnation before she passed..."_ **

"Yes...I have been meaning to ask. Why _did_ you pick me? Gentiana I can understand as a useful choice, but a human for the human-hater seemed a little odd."

The god let his head hang then, no longer looking at Ignis. It was a moment before he replied.

**_"A natural affinity for fire. A strangely-tuned gift for wielding magic despite not being of royal blood. And a human's mind is usually weak. I meant to break that mind of yours and destroy the True King from within."_ **

To the god's surprise, Ignis seemed to nod in agreement.

"Logical. I have my father to thank for my affinity to magicks, though as you rightly point out, I am... _was_...unable to harness elements to craft with elemancy myself. That still remains an exclusive power of the gods and royals. Something of a failure in my father's experiments, I assure you."

**_"What irony then, that you can now conjure flames at will. Your sire must be so proud."_ **

Ignis ignored the path Ifrit seemed to be deflecting their conversation down to, and drew his knees up to his chest. It was getting cold, and no doubt he was running out of time.

"The gods are not immortal, you said. Does that mean you cannot prevent my passing?"

**_"I can share my strength to my vessel. Should your friends have a primitive understanding of healing, they could save you."_ **

"And yet, you're debating letting me die now. Has Ifrit's desire for revenge finally burned away?"

The god roared, revealing teeth sharpened to points, eyes flaring to a blazing crimson. Clearly, no such thing had occurred, Ignis mused to himself.

**_"Would that I was not bound to the concordat. But now that I am betrayed and bound to an immortal, I cannot simply outwait him and see the bonds broken upon his death. I am trapped to his will, and with it, my revenge burns to ashes. On him, and upon your world! In the end, Ifrit would take only one man to the afterlife. Enjoy the honour, oh Icarus..."_ **

_Immortal...Ardyn?_ Speaking with the god seemed to be raising more questions than answers. But he was chasing borrowed time, and had to keep himself focused. As much as he would like to ask more about Ardyn, the here-and-now required Ifrit's cooperation, something that seemed to be swindling to short supply.

"Then you have nothing to lose. Help me, Ifrit. If I survive, we may yet see a chance to break you free of Ardyn. You have my word."

**_"The word of a man, what is that worth! The very currency that bound me as I am! And what of my true revenge? You would pay the world to save yourself?"_ **

"...Not myself..."

* * *

It felt like hours had passed.

They had managed to move Ignis back into the tent, cleaned and stitched the gaping wound haphazardly ( _"I-I think the wound is closing? Maybe? I-I dunno, it looks..."_ Prompto had stammered, wishful thinking or the hand of Ifrit, Noct wasn't willing to bet on it in any case). Potions and plumes of the Phoenix had been used in a flurry, and were perhaps the only reason Ignis' chest rose and fell, a rattling breath both a comfort and fear to the prince.

The bandages seemed to have stopped bleeding through now, Noct thought numbly as he tied yet another fresh set around the wound. Maybe...just maybe...

"Noct..."

The dark haired man raised his head to look toward the door of the tent. Gladio stooped in, and came to kneel next to Ignis. "...look, I—"

"You were fighting Ifrit. I get it."

He cut Gladio's apology off shortly, perhaps cruelly. But it wasn't a conversation Noct felt he could have right now. Logically, he understood it. Emotionally...he was having a harder time. He didn't feel he could forgive Gladio, as he was at odds with logic and passion as to whether or not there was something there that needed apologising for.

Instead, he opted to try and think like a king. It wasn't something that came naturally to him, Noct noted sullenly.

"Ifrit could have killed me, and you couldn't bank on Ignis getting it together at the last second."

Gladio seemed taken aback by the prince's words. Or, moreover, his composure.

"...Doesn't...make it any less painful." Gladio replied gruffly, looking down at Ignis. "But I guess if anyone is gonna need to forgive me, it's him."

* * *

The god and the mortal sat in silence as the world around them grew colder and colder.

**_"...I too...wished to pay the world for the one I loved as well."_ **

Ignis' eyes flicked up when Ifrit finally replied. Perhaps he could sense the end as well, and perhaps those that lived longer feared death more than humans. Perhaps gods spilled their inner fears and feelings at death's command just as humans did. It was a strange sight to be sure.

"Your revenge on mankind...was in response to something?" Ignis pried.

Ifrit nodded, a motion barely there, scarcely enough to rattle the rings that adorned his horns. He did not look at Ignis, but he could still see the Infernian fighting bitterly to keep anger sparked within his visage.

**_"Your kind used to worship us. We offered gifts in return. Your happiness was synonymous with our work. You were dependent on the gods for guidance and light._ **

**_"But over time, your kind became jealous of the gods you praised. Humans wished to ascend, dreamed of heavens and being granted access. Embellished themselves titles as if to mark themselves as particular to the gods compared to other people. Holy men and priests...monks and nuns...words to divide themselves as being special in the eyes of the gods._ **

**_"Soon, it was no longer enough merely to do this. Some humans sought to elevate themselves to the gods, some even sought to prove they were stronger than deities they branded as lazy and cruel. In years passed, Shiva was summoned by your kind..."_ **

Ignis tilted his head to the side, curious by the Infernian's words.

"The battle against the Empire in Tenebrae? Not so long ago, in truth..."

Ifrit huffed a laugh, dry and bitter.

**_"The Second Shiva was woken by the Oracle to defend against the Empire that day, that is true. But I speak of many eons before that, before the Crystal, before the Starscourge itself. Shiva always had an affinity to humans, a fondness for their plight. So when they began to worship us again so suddenly, she did not feel suspicion or anger. She felt pity and sympathy, and went down unto the world to try and repair the bonds between human and god."_ **

The god's words began to spark with fire then, the air around them trembling with heat as his speech became riddled with a barely-contained wrath.

**_"A trap! Your kind lead the only god who truly looked upon you with any kindness in those years and trapped her! Dragged her from the heavens and tore her apart in some mad desire to gain the power of the gods! She perished in their hands, and worse! Her bones were used as trinkets, her teeth, her jewels, her hair, everything was scavenged as holy relics, promises of power and godliness! When in truth, they were nothing but the scraps of a corpse!"_ **

Ignis felt his heart twist in some echo of guilt and cold shock at the god's words. Gentiana was the _third_ incarnation of Shiva? And, it seemed, the first Shiva had died by the hands of humans in much the same way as the second. It was enough to wonder why the Glacian still maintained her fondness for mankind then, given her history of betrayal.

Still, something burned stark in his mind, framed by the veiled tear that deceived Ifrit's eyes.

"You loved her."

It was not stated as a question, nor did it receive an answer from the burning Infernian and his wrath. Ifrit locked eyes with the mortal, fury radiating from him in waves.

**_"Your kind wanted the power of gods, so I gave it unto you! A plague of strength, the Starscourge, that would warp a man into a daemon. Strength you could have in abundance, and you would pay with your hearts! Daemons seemed fitting for your kind, lacking the capacity to feel or know oneself. But you would have the power you craved! And where I gifted what you asked for, Bahamut gifted your kind the Crystal, the treasure long-held by the gods, a light in the darkness to replace the light you so readily snuffed out. I would see it snuffed out once more!"_ **

"If I die, you die in the knowledge the Crystal lives on. Your revenge incomplete, and likely, the Starscourge cleansed. The next Infernian may well bequeath his blessing onto Noct in your absence."

Ifrit's suspicious was not hidden when he spoke again:

**_"If I help you survive this, why would you betray your friends and aid in my revenge?"_ **

"I am not agreeing to that. But then, when did Ifrit require the help of a human? I live, you live. May the best man win, didn't we agree?"

* * *

The sun was setting low across the sky, casting an orange glow across the walls of the tent. Gladio and Prompto were outside attempting to scrape something together to eat, though Noct had insisted he wasn't hungry. If anything, he was just _tired_. He wasn't sure quite when he had started to drift off into a light doze, his head resting on Ignis' chest to be aware of his breathing as he slept.

He was spurred awake only when Ignis' breath hitched, and a croaked voice sounded near him, a far cry from the usual collected tones that came from the cook's mouth.

"...Your Highness...please do still _shower_ in my absences...you smell like an unwashed grillpan..."


	11. Chapter 11

It was almost at purely Ignis' insistence that they continued on to Altissia.

"We have dawdled enough because of me." He had said, though he moved slower and seemed far more tired that he was prepared to admit. "If we stop for every fever and issue I may have due to Ifrit, we will never end this trip."

Still, though his words were bold enough, Noct couldn't help but feel Ignis was putting on a brave face. The nights of seeing the man crippled with fever seemed long past, and despite everything that had happened, Ignis had seemed to regain his strength of late. But after the wound he had sustained in Ifrit's summoning (and his own), the man seemed to crumple back, skin pale and eyes a little unfocused.

They had asked, they had shown concern, but Ignis simply swatted their concerns away with a wave of his hand. It was just the boat, he said, the water around them made Ifrit uneasy. He would be fine once they reached Altissia, he promised.

It gave Ignis time to think, he supposed, as he looked out across the endless ocean.

Clinging to his humanity...

It was something Ifrit had near-accused him of, and something that was now preying on his mind. Was his resolution to remain unchanged the very thing that was holding him back? Perhaps, in forsaking Ignis the man, he could truly become the Infernian and to concordat to keep Ifrit bound would no longer be necessary. Maybe he could then break his concordat with Noct and offer him the blessing he needed.

Yes, deep down, Ignis was frightened. Hidden behind a stoic mask of calm, he was fearful of losing who he was, losing his sense of self, and becoming something else entirely. Becoming like Ifrit.

Eyes drifted then to settle on the back of Noct's head, or what he could see of it over the seat in front of him. He had proclaimed to Ifrit that he would pay any price to save his king. If that price was his very self, then so be it.

The time to barter with Ifrit had come to an end, and Ignis had offered up his treasured humanity in a gesture of begrudging faith to the god who, in those moments, had sought to open up somewhat to the truth of his revenge. In exchange, Ifrit's influence was beginning to creep over Ignis once more, no longer forced back by his willpower. The slow change from man to Infernian had given Ignis the strength to overcome the grave wound nestled in his chest, and a price would come due no doubt.

Ignis could not remain in both the world of men and the world of gods. He had tried, and for a brief time, he had sustained himself in a limbo, neither burning in fever and illness caused by the strain of the god's power on his human body, nor truly simply a man. But it could not last, the world would not stall for him, and he had had to chose.

He chose his king.

He chose to become what was necessary for the success of his king.

He chose Noctis.

* * *

"Time to wake up, Iggy."

The man was jostled lightly awake, having not noticed himself nodding off. He felt perpetually tired, and it was becoming harder to mask. Still, he managed a curt nod, and even allowed Gladio to help him to his feet. The man seemed to have taken responsibility upon himself to look after Ignis after the battle, though Ignis felt a pang of guilt at causing the warrior such turmoil. Truly, the scar across his chest was causing him little to no grief; it was the cost of healing it so quickly, giving over to the Infernian, that was taking its toll once more upon his body.

"My apologies. _Sea sickness_ seems to be a trait inherited from Ifrit." He noted dryly, rather thankful to be back on dry land once more.

"We _finally_ made it!" Prompto exclaimed, stretching out his arms and taking in a big breath of air. When he lowered his arms, he slung one casually over Noctis' shoulder, a lazy grin sloping across his face. "Aren't you _hyped_ , Noct? You're gettin' _hitched_ , buddy!"

Noct managed an awkward half-smile, eyes barely dragging up from the ground.

"Oh, erm...yeah? I dunno...seems kind of secondary to getting Leviathan's blessing, don't you think? I might not even make it to the wedding."

Though his tone was half-joking, Gladio responded for the three of them when he said:

"Not gonna let that happen. You'll see Lunafreya walking down the aisle, Noct. No sea serpent is getting in the way after the hell we've been through to get you here."

The dark haired prince merely nodded, in thanks or in resignation, Ignis couldn't quite tell.

"She's meant to be making an address. Altissia really want to rub it in Niflheim's face that they have the Oracle, I suppose."

"A strange choice." Ignis noted, trying and failing to mask his need to lean on the wall beside him. Though he wanted to sleep for _days_ , his mind was still quick to pull up on the details of this gesture by the Altissia government. "They know fine well they would be tempting the Empire's wrath. And to what end? If Lady Lunafreya is to wake Leviathan, that would surely cause damages to Altissia. Moreso if the Empire arrives. Are they hoping Leviathan will decimate the empirical forces?"

"Are they gambling on Leviathan...or me?" Noct asked, the shroud of self-doubt nearly visible over him.

* * *

If Leviathan was the storm, then surely the Oracle's speech was the calm before it.

Standing before the gathered crowd, the woman spoke of the impending darkness frankly and openly; the onslaught of despair that would overwhelm the world when the Starscourge reached its inevitable peak. She did not mask the terror, nor sugar-coat the fear, nor did she ask for some farfetched rally of strength. Instead, Lunafreya spoke of light in the darkness, of hope, of belief.

Yes, if the Oracle was the calm before the storm, Leviathan surely delivered in full.

The serpent had _soared_ from the ocean just as Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto had finished helping evacuate the main body of the population, and were heading back to aid anyone left behind. It was a sight to bring pause to the three of them, not from the sheer scale of the winding creature that rose from the deep, howling in fury at the Oracle, but the _fear_ for Noct having to confront this creature for its blessing.

"We need to get everyone else out, _now_!" Gladio urged them on, rallying them to help guide the last of the Altissians out of the city battleground. Prompto's face fell as he looked up, seeing the looming objects in the skies above them. He pointed up, expression apprehensive.

"We got company!"

The trio steeled themselves for the fight to come, armed with little more than their blades and their faith in their king.

The Leviathan was brought down, but not without a price.

Ignis ran as fast as he could, leg muscles burning in protest, lungs heaving. He could see Noct _falling,_ the glow of the power of Kings starting to fade about him. He gritted his teeth and spurred himself onwards, and inwardly **_demanded_** the Infernian that resided within him to aid the king.

**_"He is your liege...not mine...I am bound to Ardyn, as you seem to have neglected to help with..."_ **

_Ardyn_.

Ignis' ruby eyes sparked up as he noted the figure of the Chancellor looming closer to the fallen form of Noct, unseen by Lunafreya who cradled him.

Feet ground to a halt as a chill shivered down Ignis' spine.

Under the tilt of his hat, and despite the distance, it was clear.

_Ardyn was looking right at him._

"Oh, Ifrit...be a dear and tidy up Leviathan's mess for me, won't you?" Regardless of the distance between them, Ardyn's voice chimed crystal clear through Ignis' mind. "I summon you...finish her battle, won't you?"

The hollow laugh that mocked through the air around him seemed to bring Ignis to his knees, his whole form trembling. He looked down at his shivering hands for a moment, before pain tore through his body, bringing Ignis doubled over and curling into a ball. Muscles snapped, bones crunched and twisted, clothes ripped and his glasses shattered to the ground as skin stretched and pulled. Ignis' body malformed and transformed to the command of Ifrit's summoning. The concordat between Ardyn and Ifrit forged a new figure from him; claws pushed out from under nails, skin shone bronzed, and horns began their slow push out from his skull to begin to twist behind his head in a flurried tangle.

**_No!_ **

Everything _halted_ under Ignis' inner cry, and he _felt_ Ifrit stumble backwards in his mind. Screwing his eyes shut against the agony of his warping body, Ignis confronted the god with sheer will alone within his mindscape.

There, he found to his surprise, he was in his own form of the Infernian, a form he had briefly held when Noct had summoned him via their own concordat. A little shorter than Ifrit, he nevertheless had gained a significant advantage over his human form, enough to confront and fight the god head-on.

And to protect Noct, he _would_.

Instead of shunning his Infernian form, Ignis accepted it in this moment as a necessity to aid his king, and rounded on Ifrit.

"Concordat or no...you will _not_ bring harm to him."

The smirk Ifrit offered him seemed insulting, and yet, Ignis could have _sworn_ he noted a hint of sadness within it.

**_"The order is made. And even if I had a choice, I would relish the task of snuffing out the light of humanity. You stand in my way in the form of a god, but you're nothing but a human playing at one of the Six."_ **

Ignis narrowed his eyes, summoning two blazing daggers to his hands. The blades were swathed in flame, the metal so dark it looked to have been forged from the night sky.

"I would break your concordat with Ardyn. That offer remains."

**_"Ever the word of a human...I would break my own chains!"_ **

With that, Ifrit summoned his own sword and swung it down in one fluid movement to clash in sparks against Ignis' daggers.

Their battle was nearly a dance of fire; blade struck blade, struck skin and clashed against horns; swipes dodged, flares jumped, blood spilled. Where one fought from learned loneliness and self-preservation wrought from betrayal, one fought from known bonds, a will to protect everyone other than himself, love wrought from loyalty.

Eventually, in one sharp moment caught with eyes that ever-scanned for opportunity, Ignis managed to crash both daggers into Ifrit's horns, severing several and bringing the old Infernian staggering back to his knees. The shattered remains of his horns decorated him in a circle like some strange cage, and Ignis landed deftly on his feet for but a second before falling to his knees as well, panting.

 ** _"...You'd fight the immovable command of a concordat for him?"_** Ifrit noted, his voice nearly quiet in...was that _awe?_ _ **"...Icarus...you are...a fool. He will not bring light to this world...your kind will ever seek to snuff it out."**_

**_"And perhaps we ought to let them learn that lesson, over and over, until such a time they learn to cherish the light."_ **

A female voice sounded behind Ifrit, bringing both he and Ignis to silence. There, standing amidst the battle of Infernians, stood the blue-eyed Glacian, white hair framing a delicate face. Ah, but it was a face carved from sorrow as she approached Ifrit, the flame god nearly recoiling from her.

 ** _"What trickery is this now? You are not here! I watched you die!"_** Ifrit all but howled, all but _accused_ , as he scrambled to his feet and away from Shiva, holding out his sword between her and himself.

**_"As I watched you die, Pyreburner. I watched the day your heart turned to ash and could say nothing...for you had severed everything of me from your mind and heart the day you saw me die. You cut that love from your soul and burned it for fuel of your hatred."_ **

Despite the blade between them, Shiva continued to walk, allowing the blade to pierce through her without flinching. **_"You have clung to this world and its darkness long enough, Ifrit. It is time to let it go. Turn your back to it, and we shall see who is right. If your faith in their hatred rings true, or my everlasting belief that the humans can nurture and cherish the light."_**

Ifrit's hand went slack, letting go of the sword as it turned to sand and ebbed away, leaving a seemingly unharmed Shiva standing within inches of him.

 ** _"...Why are you here? Why now?"_** He asked, a question Ignis himself wanted answering.

The Glacian simply smiled.

**_"Because you've given up. You passed on your title of Infernian and bear its burden no longer. For the briefest moment, Ifrit...you were impressed by this mortal's defiance and will to protect his king."_ **

Ifrit flinched back, a nearly visible sense of insult washing over him. And yet, Ignis couldn't help but feel Shiva was speaking the truth – Ifrit could have kept fighting, as he had for eons, in his mad quest to make the world pay for its slights against the gods. And yet, for one moment, he had relinquished and _questioned_ how he kept fighting the inevitable.

Ifrit finally _questioned_ a human's purpose beyond darkness.

Indeed, the once-Infernian's face seemed to soften a little, and he took one tentative step towards Shiva.

**_"And what becomes of a god who relinquishes their title?"_ **

**_"...Follow me and see for yourself. It can only be more peaceful than the life you've clung to, Ifrit. You may follow me into death, Pyreburner. And with it, be free of your chains to humanity, to revenge, to your concordat. Be free of it, Ifrit, and let them find their own path."_ **

The creature pondered this for a moment, before casting a burning glare at Ignis.

 ** _"...I do not doubt you will come to see things my way, Infernian."_** He addressed Ignis by his discarded title with more than a little venom, **_"The weariness that deceives me...the betrayal that haunts me...I relinquish them to you. Let us see if your king is truly worth that weight. I will play the role of jester in Ardyn's play no longer."_**

With a sensation of _tearing_ through his chest and mind, Ignis could _feel_ Ifrit rending himself away, freeing him from the god's grip and leaving behind his power, his title, his _blessing_...and taking the last of Ignis' humanity as his price in return.

It struck _fear_ in Ignis' heart that this was the last of his humanity fleeing him. That the last of Ignis Scientia was forsaken to truly become Ignis, the Infernian.

With a gasp, Ignis came to in the real world, slamming so forcefully out of his mind as to nearly knock himself backward onto the concrete. He regained consciousness on his hands and knees, still quaking from the inner battle to keep Ifrit from following Ardyn's command.

Had he...succeeded? Or was that all a dream?

Ignis jerked his head up to look desperately over to Noct, hoping against hope that he had indeed prevented Ifrit acting upon Ardyn's command—

-and came face-to-face with Ardyn himself, crouched before him and stooping to level his own face with Ignis'. He was smiling, grinning like a Cheshire Cat...but his eyes held the barely-contained rage of a hurricane, he _knew_ Ignis had not only prevented Ifrit but indirectly _freed_ the old god from Ardyn's concordat.

" _Ohhh_ , Ignis..." Ardyn purred, tilting his head to better see the kneeling man, "...it seems you've lost your glasses."

Gently, he placed a hand against Ignis' left temple, palm flat against the skin near his left eye.

Before he could react, a blinding burst of light erupted from Ardyn's hand, a dazzling _agony_ shredded through Ignis' vision, and Ignis knew no more.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

The night fell, gently cascading to the earth and pulling down the stars along with it. And all the moon could do was weep.

Lunafreya cradled Noctis' fallen form despite her own, mortal wound screaming through her torso. Her calling was complete; Shiva would give her blessing to Noctis, of that she was certain, as would Bahamut. With Titan, Ramuh, and Leviathan all bound to the covenant to the king, and Ifrit incarnated within Ignis, the path was paved to the Crystal and the True King's ascent.

And yet, she could not fade away just yet. Though the Oracle's task was complete, Lunafreya's was not. Though the Oracle had served her duty to the True King, Lunafreya still needed to protect Noctis.

For it seemed, Luna noted warily as she looked up to greet the raging, wounded Ocean Goddess, that Leviathan's pride would outlive her blessing. She had passed her blessing to Noct in defeat, but begrudgingly it seemed, for she towered before them ready to strike again, to demand back her pride.

Wordlessly, Lunafreya bowed over Noct, pulling him close and shielding him from whatever wrath the goddess would bring down upon them. She would bear the pain to shield her king, even if her frail form ached in protest.

And yet...the strike never came. Instead, a shadow loomed over them, hissing and spitting filled the warming air. Luna dared to uncurl from the protective shell she formed around the unconscious Noctis and looked up at the towering form standing between them and Leviathan's wrath—

-she was greeted with the bronzed back of the Infernian, horns casting a spiked silhouette against the blue ocean before him. And yet, having communicated with the Six all her life, Luna could not place the creature as Ifrit. Smaller in stature, horns lacking the aged curling length that nearly served as a cloak behind Ifrit, hair short and swept up along shorter spikes of his crown of horns. No bracelets adorned this Infernian's arms, no golden crown across his brow, nor golden plates and chains across his horns.

The crownless Infernian stood between Leviathan and Noctis, despite the pain of the water that hissed and spit as it crashed and boiled against him.

Slowly, Ignis turned to face Lunafreya over his shoulder, and the Oracle couldn't help but stare at the sight before her.

His left eye was all but obliterated under blood, a wide starburst of a wound shattering across his eyesocket. Whatever had stuck him had near-melted the eye shut, an injury severe enough to have surely robbed him of his sight. She could not see his other eye from this angle, but didn't doubt the severity of the wound that had entered his left eye. No doubt the force of such a wound would have struck through the back of his left eye and through to the right, tearing both eyes asunder.

Naturally, she yearned to heal him, to bring him relief from the pain...but her powers were rapidly failing to keep even herself alive.

The blind Infernian turned back to Leviathan then, extending both hands out before him. The serpent spat a laugh, summoning her own, numerous whirlpools around her.

**_"You are a pale imitation of Ifrit...and he feared the oceans I command!"_ **

Ignis replied with nothing but a plume of fire that billowed out of his hands. A novice he should be, but Luna noted Ignis seemed to wield the Infernian's fire with ease, albeit it unpolished.

It struck the bold Leviathan and, despite the waters protecting her, it was enough of a shock to bring her reeling back and diving back into the ocean once more. She reappeared a little distance away, water rising as steam from her burnt flesh.

**_"You would do well to heed his fears, imitator!"_ **

The serpent rounded on Ignis once more, though he refused to move. Clumsily, he staggered to where he could hear her movements through the water, trying to keep himself between Leviathan and Noctis.

Luna looked down at the king in her arms, wishing she could drag him away with the last of her strength...

"And _you'd_ do well to remember you're one of _Six_ , sweetheart!"

Gladio's rough roar tore through the air, announcing the arrival of two more who would see themselves shield Noctis before any threat that would seek to harm him. Gladio had clambered to the top of the one of the destroyed buildings that littered the area and rose up like broken teeth, his greatsword long since sent away. Ignis turned a little to the sound of his voice, trying to pinpoint exactly where he was for fear of harming him if he continued his attack on Leviathan. His senses were muddied, confused and disorientated by his injury, and he ground his teeth together.

 ** _"Gladio, stay back!"_** He replied, his voice enunciating in the strange language of the gods. It didn't fall upon deaf ears, it seemed, as Gladio retorted:

"What kind of Kingsguard would we be if we did that? You're not the only man for the job, Iggy."

Gladio held his hand up to Leviathan then, revealing what he had brought with him: a sparkling jasper, once embedded in the Archaean's hand as he held up the meteor and later presented to the king as a mark of approval, a sign of his blessing. He grasped it in his fist, before muttering to himself, "You better get the message and get to sleep-summoning, Noct..." and striking his fist down to the ground.

To his surprise, the ground _rocked_ and trembled, the jasper in his hand glowing and reacting to whatever desperate plea had reached Noctis and, in turn, been sent to the Archaean. The god tore up from the water, a third contender to the fight, and struck down in echo of Gladio's posture, bringing up a great wall of stone between him and Noctis. Ignis stumbled backwards, unable to guess or hear accurately enough to know where the walls would spike up from next. He pulled himself away, pulling himself up onto the shattered building platform a short distance to the left of Luna and Noct who were huddled on the pier, protected now by Titan's shield.

" _Aww_ , c'mon, I was gonna pseudo-summon Old Man Thor for Noct!" Prompto complained, appearing next to Gladio and twirling the runestone marking the Fulgurian's blessing to the True King between his fingers. "I guess I still could— _no wait jeez, think of the water, that would be a terrible idea!_ " He yammered, nearly dropping the stone in his panic and fumbling to catch it. Having secured the stone, he sighed. "Jeez, wow, could you imagine though, all that lighting with all this water? Chargrilled Leviathan sure, but chargrilled Prompto too."

Ignis tilted his head towards Luna and Noct's position, as best he could recall, worry etching over his face.

**_"Are you hurt?"_ **

He couldn't see the blood trickling across Luna's dress, pooling beneath her, her paling skin and failing strength in her eyes.

"Prince Noctis is safe." She assured the Infernian, before collapsing along with the unconscious Noctis.

* * *

The painful dream threw Noctis cruelly back into reality with a sharp gasp.

The images were fleeting, already starting to disappear with the waking sun. Luna...Tenebrae...? Flowers on a hillside, the stars shone for him...?

...The ring.

His heart plummeted as he thought of it, the embodiment of his responsibility, his legacy, everything he was so convinced he was not worthy of, everything he played off as an unwanted inconvenience when in truth, it simply _terrified_ him.

His fears were chased away by a familiar deep tone that greeted him.

"Back with us?"

Noctis looked up and saw Ignis sitting in an armchair at the end of the room, back to him. Was he...guarding him? Or simply watching over him? He didn't respond, but noted the light gasp of discomfort and time it took for Ignis to find the arm of the chair and get himself to his feet.

"...I'll tell the others." He continued, having apparently guessed Noct's awake state in spite of his lack of reply. Turning to face the prince in full, he added sharply: "...though it may take a bit."

It was then Noct saw the star-shaped fresh scar that was strewn across Ignis' left eye, forcing it shut. Another scar dashed across the bridge of his nose, another over his right eyebrow and dragged downwards a little across his right eyelid. Immediately, Noct felt guilty for not replying to Ignis' initial greeting.

"You're hurt..." He said, a feeble and meek question he barely knew how to frame.

Indeed, Ignis scarcely knew how to respond. Of the two of them, he had been the one to tidy Noct's apartment when the young man left it heaped to the ceiling with rubbish. He had cooked his meals, cleaned his clothes, advised him on which paths to take, attended his ignored meetings, and whatever else Noct hadn't noticed in the background.

It seemed odd for the role to reverse and, Noct noted, something of a poor display on his part.

"...A small sacrifice in the greater battle." Ignis reassured him. Ever-aware of Noct's heart. Ever-aware of preserving his feelings. More than once, Gladio had accused Ignis of being too soft on him, he recalled.

"And Luna?"

The question fell from his lips before he had even thought about it. The two words hung heavily in the air between them, both knowing the answer and neither wishing to be the one to burden Noct's soul with it.

Yet again, Noct left the task to Ignis' more capable hands.

"...She has passed."

As if the words had wrought sensation back to his heavy limbs, Noct noted the weight in the palm of his left hand curled at his side.

_No._

He almost _panicked_ in relation, his breath coming ragged and short as he lifted his hand and uncurled his fingers slowly. There, nestled innocently against his skin, was the midnight-black ring that bore the lived of countless kings, his late father, and now, Luna's life.

Everything that he must now carry in his hands.

He wanted to run, to throw the ring away, to shove the trinket into Ignis' hands and tell _him_ to figure out the best path, the best plan, what the _hell_ to do with all those spirits and lives that were embedded in that damn ring.

Sensing his panic, Ignis pointed to the anchor back to reality at Noct's bedside; the notebook.

"...Umbra left that for you."

Noct's head jerked up at Ignis' words, any excuse to pull away from the ring in his hand. He followed Ignis' finger and found the notebook nestled on the bed next to him. Tentatively, he reached out to open the book...and found the sylleblossom of Tenebrae dried between its pages.

_Dead._

The word stuck bitter and cold within his mind, sudden and stark and unwanted. His body began to shake, his shoulders tensed as his hands curled to fists, the metal of the ring biting into the flesh of his palm.

He heard Ignis' unsure footsteps moving away to the door.

"... _Wait!_ "

The footsteps stopped.

Noctis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out; the burden of his self-perceived failures, the lives of his father and Luna, the Crystal that demanded the blessing of the Six Gods that seemed unable to govern themselves let alone humanity, the warring spirit that was tearing the humanity from Ignis, a man who the Fates had decided ought to be _blinded_ on top of it all for choosing to stand by him—

_I don't deserve you. Any of you. You're being ripped apart for standing next to me, and for what? What have I done to save any of you? All I've done is depend on you all..._

_"..._ please..." He hated himself for asking, hated himself for burdening his already over-burdened advisor. He wasn't sure what to ask: please _stay?_ Please don't go? Please don't leave me with these ghosts around me...

Noct squeeze his eyes tighter, tears spilling down his face. He nearly missed the side of the bed dipping a little as Ignis came to sit at his side, but he didn't ignore the hand that came up to gently wipe the tears away.

"You did not ask us to stand by you." Ignis said, seemingly all-too-aware of Noctis' inner demons. "You did not command us to follow. You did not seek power for your own gain, and you did not ask for your duty.

"It should speak volumes of its own then, that we _choose_ to stand by you. We _choose_ to follow you. We _choose_ to help you gain the power you need to save our world. Not because you are our king...but because you are our _friend_. We do not make these sacrifices to burden you, Noct, nor to drive you towards your goal out of some misplaces sense of responsibility for our losses. We make our sacrifices in _faith_. For it is _our_ duty to fight this cause as much as it is yours. You do not bear this duty alone, and you _certainly_ do not shoulder the blame for our choices. You bear only our respect and faith in you...especially as you seem to lack it in yourself."

It may have been temporary, and it may have been merely words, but Noct could feel for one, brief moment that the panic and despair that swirled so readily around his heart like vultures in the night began to subside. Ignis was a solitary fire in an endless night, Noctis mused, steadfast and comforting to those lost. He managed a bitter laugh, realising the irony of their names and his thought...

Confusion creased Ignis' brow lightly.

"...What?"

Noct managed a small smile, despite the tearstains running down his cheeks, but then realised with a pang of guilt that Ignis couldn't _see_ the gesture. He looked away, before saying:

"Nothing...I was just thinking...I'd be pretty hopeless without you."

"Nonesense. You'd probably have learnt how to _cook_ and _iron_ , perhaps..."

Ignis' mock-indignation brought another small laugh to Noctis' throat, but it caught again as the guilt caught up with him. He was laughing, feeling better...what right did he have? The man sitting next to him was scarred for life mere days ago at most, and yet _he_ was giving the support to Noct?

The silence that Ignis once found comfort in now left him feeling a strange sense of freefalling, and he spoke again:

"Noc-?!"

The word was pushed out from his lungs as the prince near-crashed into his ribs, arms so tightly around Ignis' bruised ribs he nearly coughed and spluttered. He had no idea how to react, and opted to keep his hands hovering to the sides awkwardly.

"Ignis, I'm _sorry!_ I'm sorry you got caught up in all this. I'm sorry Ifrit is there. I'm sorry you ended up becoming the Infernian for me. I'm sorry you have to fight, and I'm sorry you have to look after me so much. I'm sorry you were hurt, I'm sorry about your eyes and I'm sorry—"

The apologies rushed out in a garbled muddle, as if Noctis sought to not only repair any damage he felt he had caused Ignis, but to apologise to those he had not been able to apologise to, for all his imagined slights to his father, to Luna, to Prompto and Gladio. He stopped only when he felt Ignis' hands clasp around him, returning the embrace with near the same force.

"If you feel you must apologise, then I fear I have failed you." Ignis responded, and Noct noticed with some surprise that the man's voice was thickened with quiet sobs. Was Ignis... _crying?_ "None of this should be your burden, Noct."


	13. Chapter 13

Frustrating.

Yes, that would sum up every part of his new life, Ignis mused to himself, though he did not allow his inner anger to reflect on his face. He felt Prompto's hand on his lower back, guiding him as they walked slowly through the wrecked streets of Altissia. Much of the city's centre had been destroyed by the Leviathan, but the outer streets were relatively unharmed. He was told it looked like a large crater in the centre of it all, flooded full with a whirling ocean, but the sea-framed city had seen whole areas escape unharmed.

"I guess we did a fairly decent job of defending it then." Gladio sounded somewhere to his right, "No civilian casualties."

"Probably why the festival is still going ahead." Prompto acknowledge, his voice marred with a tangle of happiness and sadness. Ignis knew the man wanted nothing more than to cheer everyone up, to take them to the festival he had been very keen on attending, but he was also equally aware of the dark shadows of their battle hanging over them. He just wants to fix everything, Ignis thought solemnly, no...he just wants to reverse it all. He loved the way we all were before this...

"You can still go if you want to." Noct mumbled, Ignis realising from the sound that the prince was loitering a little behind them. "Not like we're getting much else done here..."

It was true. The train they were due to take would not be leaving until tomorrow afternoon, and for the moment, that left the group not only locked in a exasperating limbo, but left to dwell on the darkness of the previous week.

Perhaps it would do them well to allow themselves a brief respite, even if only for a few hours.

"Maybe get your head out of your ass and think about someone else for a change..." Gladio growled back at Noct's flippant words, "You think Iggy's gonna want to get dragged through a huge crowd and loads of noise?"

Ignis opened his mouth to protest, but found his voice disappeared into his throat. Gladiolus had taken Noctis' surge of depression as somewhat of an insult the last few days. Put simply, the two of them dealt with tragedy very differently; where Noctis blamed himself, Gladio would blame the world. Where Noct would weep, Gladio would roar. Where Noct would plead apologies to those departed, Gladio would fight for their memories.

Neither was right or wrong. But neither could hope to comprehend the other's stance. Noct viewed Gladio's manner towards the situation as abrasive, disrespectful of the dead. And Gladio saw Noct's reaction as weak and similarly insulting to the departed. Still, he had grown rather weary of them speaking about him as if he were unable to hear them.

He had become weary of feeling like a burden in need of care. It simply did not sit well with him.

"...Right..." Prompto's guilt-ridden voice cut through the tension, and he could feel the blond's attention turn to him. "Sorry Ignis, I...I didn't think—"

"It's fine, Prompto." Ignis assured him with a small nod, "Gladiolus has neglected to ask me how I would feel about such a situation. I would be more than happy to accompany you all to the festival. If it gets too boisterous for me, I can always return to our rooms until you are ready to return yourselves."

In truth, the idea of tackling a large crowd put Ignis on edge – he was struggling to adapt to his recent blindness. Noises were so loud, increasingly so over the last few days, as if his body were trying to make up for the lack of sight. Perhaps it would someday, but right now, he was unaccustomed to it and the sounds were simply dizzying. Even simply walking unaided was proving a trial, much to his chagrin. He was secretly proud of his elegance and grace, and now, he felt as though he were perpetually stumbling through the dark.

The only improvement since Ardyn's attack had been the silence in his mind. Ifrit had departed after his acknowledgement of Ignis' strength, passing the title of Infernian on finally to his reincarnation. Was he no longer a human at all now? He didn't know, and it wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss yet. Suffice to say he had informed the others of Ifrit's departure, and his fully inherited title. Prompto had been quick to point out Noct could break the concordat with Ignis now and try to form a covenant instead to gain his blessing.

Alas, nothing came so easily to their group.

"Isn't this the part where Gentiana shows up?" Prompto had said after the pair severed their concordat but failed to establish a covenant in its wake. He had whirled about checking his own shadows for Shiva's vessel, "She should be telling us what to do, right?"

She had not appeared, and Ignis wondered if the goddess was perhaps in mourning herself, her Oracle now no longer part of this world. Still, Lunafreya had awoken Ifrit and reincarnated him. For all her work, they would figure out the rest.

No one wanted to suggest Ignis' covenant and blessing would be formed the same way as the rest of the Six had proven so far – by battling Noctis. If the prince was loath to fight Ignis before, he was certainly never going to accept a battle in his current state...

* * *

" _Wooooaaahhh!_ "

It was enough to make Ignis smile, to hear Prompto's starstruck gasp. He might not be able to see the carnival or the gunslinger's expression, but he could imagine both easily enough merely from his voice.

"A lot of feathers and _kupo_ , I presume?" He asked lightly. He heard Prompto jump a little then come to his side, placing a hand on his back and leading him a little through the street.

"Oh right! Sorry...so, right, there's this _huge_ Chocobo inflatable over _here_ —" He picked up Ignis' wrist lightly and lifted it up to he was pointing in the direction of where the decoration was. He then guided Ignis' hand straight down a little, to about eyelevel, "—and over _here_ , there's a little pen with four Chocobos in. Purple, green, grey, and yellow. They're really cute and fluffy and—hey come on, let's see if they'll let you pet one of them!" He shifted his hand from Ignis' wrist to take hold of his hand properly and pull the man through the crowd towards the pen.

He trusted Prompto not to let him trip, but he felt a shiver of concern rattle through him all the same. Soon, however, he felt the soft, plush velvet of Chocobo feathers under his fingertips.

"That's the purple one! Matches your shirt." Prompto offered by means of explanation of his choice of Chocobo. Ignis titled his head down to hide the small chuckle that escaped his throat.

"I appreciate your logic. As well as your confirmation that none of you have taken advantage and started leaving out glittery shirts for me to put on..."

"You'd totally rock a glittery shirt and you know it."

"Oh, no doubt."

He felt Prompto's hand snake around his wrist again and lead him kindly aside. To his left, he heard a squeaking _"kupo!"_ and all around him the loud hammering of feet. Gods, had _walking_ always been so loud?

"Right, okay, so there's a dancing Moogle here? I'm not even gonna describe that because...I can't. It's...weird. Like...oh! Oh, wait, okay, Moogle's dragged Noct over and now _he's_ having to dance. I'm gonna make a valiant effort to describe this because this needs committing to memory."

They continued in this fashion for some time, with Prompto being Ignis' tour guide and physical guide around the bustling city. Luckily, he only tripped a few times, and each time, either he or Gladio or Noct were close enough by to catch him. From their speed, he could assume Noct and Gladio were walking either side of him. It was still a strange thought, for the three of them to be looking after him so steadfastly.

_Why not simply leave me behind..._

The thought was a sullen one, and enough to plunge his heart into icy waters. It must have reflected on his face, as he heard Noct say "Prompto, wait" and a hand came to his shoulder.

"...You okay?" It was Noct's voice of concern at his ear, and almost reflexively, Ignis nodded and replied:

"Absolutely fine. Apologies, Your Highness. I must be slowing you all down."

He assumed Noct must have shook his head from the silence; he had a habit of replying non-verbally, which had become a jarring problem of late. He was getting better at taking this into consideration, as he heard the dark-haired man stammer " _Ahh_ , sorry, erm, no. No, you're not."

Ignis nodded, but replied:

"Still...I am getting a little drained." Between the injury and his body's strain in becoming the Infernian, he found he needed rest more frequently these days. He wondered when he finally lost the last dregs of what made him human and became a full being within the ranks of the Six, would he then recover in full? Right now, it was his human form weakening under the pressure of the Infernian's fire...to the point where it was holding him back.

And yet, more than anything, Ignis clung to remain who he was. For his friends.

He felt hands switch on his wrist, and he was being guided away from the crowd. He sensed that Prompto and Gladio had not followed. Slowly, Noct guided him down to sit on a bench, and sat himself down next to him.

"It's so strange. Seeing everyone like this."

"...I can't say I understand..."

"Huh? Oh...damn, sorry, that was...er..." Noct trailed off in a sight, and Ignis knew the man had found a stick to mentally beat himself with.

He wouldn't allow it.

"A jest, Your Highness. I assume you mean the frivolity in the wake of such hardship?"

"...Yeah. Everyone's smiling. Laughing. Like they've forgotten."

"I think that's rather presumptuous of you. I doubt anyone here has forgotten." Ignis replied, head bowed a little as he looked to Noct's side. "But people must continue to live. Not to show disrespect of the dead, or disregard of tragedy, but _because_ of it. Because those people gave their lives so we _could_ live like this. Because tragedy happens and tragedy _ends_. It is difficult, especially at first...but you are not only living for yourself anymore, Noct. You live for those who were taken from this world too soon. You live their share now too. I doubt they would want you to live in sorrow..."

A silence settled between them again, and eventually, Ignis sighed.

"...You really must stop doing that."

"Oh er...right, yeah...I nodded..."

"In future, I shall simply assume your facial expressions for myself in those long silences you are so fond of. And when I start laughing, I shan't tell you what face I have assumed you made in that silence."

He heard Noct give a scoff then, and it warmed his heart to know he had made the prince smile, even if it was simply one of those reluctant half-smiles that sometimes betrayed his brooding face.

" _Riiight_. 'Cause you'll look _super-cool_ sitting there laughing to yourself in the silence."

"I believe it was _you_ who said I am always stylish."

Noct was about to retort, he could _feel_ it and it made a sly smile sneak across his own face. But the sound of approaching footsteps brought his head back up, following the sound.

"It's Prompto." Noct offered, before greeting the blond. "You okay?"

"Yeah yeah, look, you two need to get a move on." Prompto was grinning, Ignis could _hear_ it in his voice. "You'll be late for the competition!"

"Comp...etition? We didn't enter anything..." Noct's voice grew closer, and Ignis assumed he had turned to look at him for some kind of sign of understanding. He shook his head and shrugged in response.

"I'm hardly in any condition to be _competing_. Unless the competition is for growing several feet in height or setting things ablaze which I am reluctant to participate in when I can't _see_."

"No no! So, don't kill me, but I may or may not have entered Iggy into the cooking contest."

Ignis' face screwed up in disappointment. Of all of them, he hadn't expected Prompto to be so _cruel_. The loss of his sight was hard, the loss of his fighting ability harder. Harder yet was the utter loss of his enjoyment of cooking. Why would the blond rub that in his face so defiantly?

"Well, that's _last place_ decided." He grumbled, venom dripping in his voice. He heard Prompto's hands shaking.

"No, no no no no no! No, dude, I'm not _that_ mean, jeez, _this was supposed to cheer you up_ , gods I messed this up..." He was flustered, and Ignis could picture well that he was basically _dancing_ on the spot with worry, rubbing the back of his head in a display of his usual anxiety. "I know you can't cook right now and it sucks. I know it means a lot to you. So, I had a word with the judge and he said it would be totally fair if you entered but someone _else_ did the actual like...cooking and chopping! Noct can't cook for crap, so he basically evens the field if _he_ is your hands and eyes for this! You tell him what to do, and he cooks it! Voila! Ignis cooks through proxy!"

Ignis felt his face relax again...and then _smile_ at Prompto's gesture. It was bizarre, awkward, and _completely_ ludicrous...and so whole-heartedly _Prompto_.

"...You're _kidding?_ Prompto, I don't think even Specs can guide me through a kitchen." Noct said, torn between accepting to try and cheer Ignis up, and diving into the ocean to escape the embarrassment. "I burn soup. I have actually burnt soup before."

"To a solid mass, if one remembers rightly. Quite a feat, considering it was only stock and broth..." Ignis mused aloud, tilting his head up to the skies as he recalled the memory. "You basically burned _water_ into a solid mass. I wasn't even aware it was possible."

"Exactly. So I will probably obliterate anything Iggy tells me to try and cook."

"Well...I could enter instead of you then, Noct? Me and Specs will blow the competition out of the water!" Prompto beamed, though Ignis frowned a little. Was there...an edge of _sharpness_ to Prompto's utterance there? It almost sounded like...envy?

Before he could brood on that further, the conversation took another strange turn; Noctis stood up, taking Ignis' wrist and pulling him up too.

"Fine, _fine_ , I'll do it. Just to, y'know, keep Gladio off my case." Noct seemed to tack the lacklustre excuse to the end of his sentence.

Once more, Ignis found his voice caught in silence.

* * *

 

"So...I chop the carrots like...circles or longways?"

"Circles."

"...okay, and the potatoes?"

"If I asked for triangles, would you do so?"

Ignis was smiling, and he felt Noct scowl at him.

"Hey, I'm just your hands and eyes remember? You wanna win this?"

"Most certainly. But it's far more amusing to think of you cutting triangles out of potatoes." Ignis replied, leaning back on his seat behind Noct. It was rather fun, he had to admit. He was half-cooking to be sure, but it was the closest he had gotten to his hobby in a while. Teasing Noct and distracting him from his woes was icing on the cake.

"...Circles. You're getting circles, Specs."

"Alas."

He listened to Noct chopping the vegetables for a little while. No doubt butchering vegetation was therapeutic to the half-carnivorous picky-eater.

He wondered if the prince might actually _try_ to eat them now he had basically cooked the meal himself.

A little while later, he could hear the food hissing in a pan. Noct was doing his utmost to follow Ignis' instruction to the letter, but he couldn't help but feel the taller man did a better job by far.

"It doesn't look like how you make it..." He sighed, looking at the contents of the pan.

"I'm sure it's lovely."

"...No seriously, it looks...no, right, come here."

He grabbed Ignis' hand and yanked him up, and from the increase of heat he realised Noct was guiding him towards the stove. He locked his legs in place to stop him.

"Noct! Y-Your Highness, I might not _burn_ as others do now, but I certainly shouldn't be near a hot stove right now."

"You'll be fine, just—" Noct was _behind_ him, he realised, and had snaked both arms around him to hold both of Ignis' wrists like some strange puppeteer. "Right. I'm still your eyes and hands. You're just gonna do a bit more. I won't let you cut yourself or anything, just trust me."

Noct steered his hands towards the pan, and Ignis found, to his surprise, once he had orientated himself and with Noct guiding him with where things were, muscle-memory seemed to serve to help him cook. The sounds of food cooking, the _change_ in sounds signalling when something was finished or needed the heat lowering—it wasn't as precise as his eyesight to be sure, but he was relearning.

_I could cook again even if my sight doesn't return._

The little voice in his head offered a tiny amount of hope, and yet, it filled his heart in spite of the burning embarrassment staining his cheeks pink at Noct's strange embrace. He could feel the prince's chin resting on his right shoulder, the smell of amber that seemed to cling to him ever-more-obvious with his remaining senses creeping up to support him.

To the side, watching the pair, Gladio turned to Prompto.

"How'd you know they'd agree to this? How'd you know it'd cheer 'em both up?" He asked, "Guessing what'd cheer Noct up is like guessing the weather..."

Prompto smiled sadly, eyes fixed on the two.

"...'Cause it'd cheer me up."

* * *

 

"...Tilt your wrist a little more...little more...Done! There!"

Noct guided Ignis' hand to put the pan down and stepped back, a little to Ignis' sadness. The man looked left and right, not for his sight but to try and hear where Noct had gone.

Perhaps he'd gone to look at the dish, or—

-then, he heard it. Quiet, perhaps Noct thought no one else could hear him. But _Ignis_ heard it. Noct's usually lazy drawl becoming clipped, precise, and attempting Ignis' own regional accent:

" _Mmah've come ahp with a new recipeeeh!_ "

The residual pink flush of Ignis' cheeks _scalded_ to a full-on reddening of his whole face. His jaw tensed, shoulders hunched, hands balled into fists out of sheer indignation.

"Did you—did you just _imitate_ me?" He stammered out.

If Noct was at all embarrassed, he didn't sound it when he laughed. In fact, he sounded genuinely _happy_ , a sound Ignis hadn't heard in a long time.

"Aw, you let me down, Specs. You're supposed to say ' _Can't wait to try it.'"_

"...I fear I couldn't mimic Your Highness's accent quite so _eloquently_ as you imitated _mine_."

"It was spot on and you know it."


	14. Chapter 14

Whatever frivolity they had gain from the carnival was just that – a brief respite that faded in time as reality dawned upon them again. In fact, reality was one of the few things that _did_ grace them with a dawn, for the sun seldom rose early these days, and was blotted out within hours to become night again.

"Without the Oracle, the world is falling into darkness." Ignis noted as the chill air of night ever so slightly began to make itself known, "The connection to the gods needs to be opened once more. Without an Oracle, that falls to the Crystal. To the king."

Noct bristled then looked away, feeling the weight of his responsibility not only bear down upon him again, but the dark, murky guilt that seemed to stick evermore to his heart and drag it down into the depths. Lunafreya had taken it all upon herself, to be the light of the world, to keep the darkness at bay and keep the channel open between the Six and the mortal world. Such an effort had put so much strain on her body that, by the end, the woman had been rendered frail, dying in the light of her own powers.

The world was a parasite upon her, Noct thought gravely, bitterly, almost _angrily._ He realised quickly that such a thought was one akin to Ifrit's logic, and shook it from his mind.

Ignis' head tilted toward Noct, who was sitting at his side as they travelled through Niflheim by train. The man seemed to have sought more comfort and support in the last few days, which was in turn a comfort for them all, and yet, the prince still kept up his usual stoic silences rather than truly opening up and allowing his friends to help him grieve.

"You click your tongue when you're annoyed." He said by means of alerting Noct to the silence, "Softly, and usually only once, but you do. It gives you away." He'd come to notice the small sounds of their behaviours of late; Prompto chewed his bottom lip, Noct clicked his tongue, Gladio growled. He'd even started to hear the soft shift of muscles as shoulders tensed, jaws twitched. He wondered if he would learn to hear sounds of happiness in the future, for now, he only knew how to spot his friends' discontent in sound.

"...Just thinking..."

The dismissive response brought Ignis away from Noct once more, and he leant his head against the window. To a passerby, he would seem as if he were taking in the view, Ignis thought bitterly. He could just about feel the warmth of the setting sun across his face, the creeping cold of heralding night setting in around that.

He jumped a little as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Somehow, that had become Noct's way of addressing him in the silence he favoured, a politeness to tell Ignis he wasn't being ignored in the absence of being able to see his facial expressions. The hand slid down a little to rest comfortably on his forearm, and the pair sat like that for a while, content.

"There's a Royal Tomb before Gralea. An abandoned quarry. We should stop there on our way." Ignis said, turning to face Noct again, "No sense rushing in under equipped."

A bitter laugh escaped the dark haired king, and the hand slipped away once more.

"I'm pretty _under equipped_ as it is. I'm short three blessings. The Crystal won't even recognise me as the True King, so I can't defeat the daemons. Maybe...maybe we ought to look for different routes."

The comment took Ignis by surprise. It was usually his job to seek out different paths, as Noct and the others often simply found one and ran headlong into it. Still, the sudden consideration seemed born of Noctis' own self-doubt that had amplified of late. It brought concern creasing across Ignis' face.

"And what would you suggest?" He asked, curiosity colouring his tone, "Shiva's blessing will come, in time. Once it does, we will have an opportunity to figure out how to receive the Infernian's blessing from me, and I presume Bahamut would be favourable to you. After all, it is he and the Crystal that determines the True King."

The train began to slow, and Noct's hand appears again at his shoulder.

"...We're here." He said, avoiding Ignis' question for another time. He helped the other man get to his feet, though his mind was elsewhere. What other options were there? If he failed to gather his blessings, failed to find the Crystal, how else could he prevent the onslaught of darkness and daemons? It was his duty, after all, never mind the path he took to achieve it.

The pair left the train carriage, stepping out into the dying light of day to greet Gladio and Prompto. The former looked at the pair, disagreement already evident on his face and in his voice.

"Seriously? You didn't think to offer to let Iggy sit this one out?" Gladio spat in Noct's direction. Once more, Ignis went to say something, but felt himself retreat. The argument between the pair, barely boiling on the surface, was not truly about him, though both seemed to be using his injury as an excuse _to_ exchange heated words. Insulting, perhaps, but not entirely intended. "Maybe you should offer to look after _him_ for a change instead of expecting him to keep up coddling _you_ and holding your hand every step of the way."

"Sure, yeah, let's just leave him behind, on his own, whilst we run off to a tomb for a few hours. I'm sure he won't be a great big target for Ardyn at all." Noct replied, equally venomous, "He's safer with us."

" _He_ is also blind, not deaf, not that any of you seemed to remember this when I _did_ possess my sight." Ignis drawled, adjusting his glasses on his nose and looking over to them. "Gladio, Noct is right. With Ifrit gone, I am the Infernian now. We don't know what Ardyn will plan to do with that change of tactic, if anything. Noct, _Gladio_ is also correct. You _must_ lead, and understand that I may no longer be able to protect you as I have in the past. I do not mean this as a ridicule, for I would watch your back regardless of your fighting prowess. I simply mean it as a guidance – our usual fighting patterns and tactics are null and void. Do not forget that."

"Yeah, and Iggy wouldn't let me take the spear off him, so you'll have to make do with me." Prompto chipped in, clapping a hand on Ignis' shoulder in support of his steering the conversation away from confrontation. "Seriously, you ever tried to do a backflip off a spear? This guy makes it look easier than it is. You'll have to make do with a bullet or five. No backflips. Sorry."

Ignis turned to face Prompto's voice and nodded in silent thanks of his understanding that they needed to harbour some sort of semblance to the group's previous harmony. Still, for all his usual jokes, it seemed even Prompto was struggling under the weight of their sorrow, for his voice lacked the usual chipper spark that tended to lift it above the gloom of reality.

He was trying, Ignis thought sullenly, trying to keep them all together. Trying to pick up all those shattered shards of what we were and piece them back together.

But the pieces were sharp, and cut him deeply. Pieces were missing, ground to dust, lost to the seas. Whatever the blond managed to put back together, it wouldn't ever be the same. A hollow replica, a broken vase capable of holding nothing.

* * *

"I mean, sure, of course we gotta _backtrack_. Again. Urgh..."

Prompto's shoulders sagged and he turned to Ignis. The man was falling behind, exhausted from the effort of merely trying to keep pace. In the absence of his sight and early days of adapting to it, the man was expending more energy dodging, sometimes unnecessarily if he misheard a sound as being approaching enemies. He had fallen more times than any of them would admit, tripping on the uneven footing and slipping on the swamplike ground. It was strange and saddening, to see the man who held such pride in his grace and elegance be forced to his hands and knees in his struggle to merely walk. He'd been offered no time to recover, to adapt, and they had no time to offer him even if they wanted to.

Placing a hand on his lower back to guide him, Prompto fell in step with Ignis once more. Between their bickering, it seemed Gladio and Noct had neglected to actually show concern for Ignis, despite both being perfectly happy to use him as their screen for arguing in the first place.

It was easier than admitting the truth, Prompto mused. That both of them felt they had failed each other.

"...Thank you." Ignis mumbled, his wounded pride beginning to reflect in his voice.

"You're doing fine." Prompto assured him, "Seriously, I'm struggling with this footing as it is. You always did have good balance though, I guess it's paying off."

If his encouragement helped, Ignis didn't show it, much to Prompto's chagrin. He studied the other man's face for a moment, then his brow creased in confusion. "Hey, Ignis...?"

"Yes?"

"...Didn't you—" Prompto's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure how to word his next question without sounding like an utter _creep_ , and the thought made his voice recoil back into his throat. He'd noticed something a little off about Ignis' appearance, but now he felt too embarrassed to admit he'd noticed something so small; the man had a few marks on his face, a mole on his right check for one, and a light scar along his jawline, barely visible and no doubt long forgotten. But both were...absent from his features, and it had taken a little time but now he had noticed, Prompto couldn't _help_ but notice.

"...er, didn't you mention you were tired? We could set up camp?" He offered lamely as an excuse for his questioning tone.

"We're nearly done here. I would rather see it finished before resting or we'll be here all night with those two at each other's throats." The dagger wielder nodded over at the two ahead of them. Prompto shrugged.

"Eh, never said we'd ask them. We could set up camp, chill out, have an Ebony or two, and see how long it takes for those two to notice."

Finally, his words elicited a light chuckle from Ignis, and Prompto's heart swelled with pride. And yet, the contrast of it shattered the illusion once more and blue eyes flicked away for a moment.

The effort it took to create even small moments that reflected their past connections was painful.

* * *

The daylight was long gone, and being ankle-deep in a swamp fighting a gigantic Marlboro that seemingly refused to _die_ was not how Noctis wished to spend his night.

As his blade clashed down upon the tentacle fiend, he began to regret not thinking to ask about setting up camp for the night. Fighting this thing in the daylight would have been difficult, but in the dark and cold of night, it was even _more_ of a pain.

He warped from the air as the creature attempted to blight him with its awful breath once more, and for the hundredth time that battle, eyes scanned to find Ignis and check he was safe. The man was defensive, striking with one dagger only when he felt something was too close. He'd been damn near _ordered_ not to try and engage a fight in full, no matter what he heard, he was _not_ to try and protect him.

 _Reluctant_ was a word birthed to give name to the agreement Ignis had offered him at that. Even from this distance, Noct could see the anger and frustration seeping through the man's expression.

But at least he was _alive_. At least he was as safe as he could be, given the situation.

Once more, Noct took off to deliver a deathblow to the Marlboro, only to see the creature fall then rise once more.

" _Dammit..."_ He hissed, landing and scowling up at the beast. He _relied_ on Ignis to figure out a creature's weakness, a creature's abilities, and he realised without him, they were simply striking like a battering ram against a steel wall. No direction, no guide, no channelling to any kind of productive force. Gladio was striking relentless just as Noct was, and Prompto was simply hanging by Ignis, trying to keep the man from getting captured by the beast's maw.

"We must retreat!" Ignis' voice commanded clear through the air, "This is pointless! Retreat and regroup, we must consider a new tactic."

"Got it. Prompto, help Iggy out. Gladio, retreat." Noct confirmed, warping across the area to land nearer to Ignis and leading the way forward. He didn't see Ignis stall, grabbing Prompto's wrist to pull him back too.

"Huh? ...What?" Prompto skidded to a halt and looked over his shoulder at the blinded man, "Dude, come on, we gotta go. _You_ said—"

Ignis removed his glasses, holding them out to a confused Prompto.

"Look after these for me." He said simply, and the blond took hold of the man's tinted spectacles slowly.

"Errr...okay, why?" He asked, before his heart froze as Ignis turned and walked _back_ to the Malboro.

"They might _steam up_." Came the dry response accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. Prompto had half a mind to chase after him, but it became apparent what he planned to do – for the first time since the Leviathan's attack, Ignis tapped into his new, fully-bequeathed title of Infernian. Flames erupted around him, dancing across the swamp in spite of the cold and wet ground, and soon he was replaced by the soaring form of the god of fire, horns piercing the skies in a crown around his head.

Even in this form, the gunslinger noticed his scars remained, his left eye melded shut and his right milky and sightless.

Ignis had been afraid to use his powers when he _could_ see, and outright refused now that he couldn't, for fear of harming those around him. He'd told them to flee to avoid this, Prompto realised, as did Noct and Gladio it seemed when they had returned to his side, realising their absence.

"My money's on the big guy." Gladio smirked, folding his arms across his chest. He was pleased for Ignis, proving he still had fight in him, proving he would confront his fears like this for the good of their mission.

"I wonder what grilled Marlboro tastes like..." Prompto mused whimsically as they watched Ignis obliterate the poor creature in a torrent of flame. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted over: " _Hey Iggy!_ Think you might've overdone the dinner there, friend!"

The god looked over his shoulder then, sightless eyes framed by bronze-hued skin.

 ** _"Apologies...you'll have to make do with whatever Noct cooks you tonight..."_** He replied in the tongue of the Astrals. He turned fully to make his way back to them, shrinking in stature as he did so and, by the time he was rejoined with the group, back to his usual self. He arched his neck to the side, clicking out the stiffness in his muscles from the transformation. Noct told him that bruises often formed on his joints after returning to his human form, and the whole process did strain him terribly. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to _rest_. He turned a little on an angle and gestured with an open palm towards the now-clear path. "Your Highness, the tomb. I suggest you reclaim your weaponry and then perhaps we could make camp?"

With that, his knees buckled, though he was caught by Gladio before he could collapse in exhaustion. Though transforming was not usually enough to prompt a complete _faint_ , between that and his struggle through the day to keep up with his bickering friends, Ignis felt _fatigued_ in every way.

* * *

gnis had awoken later to the smell of something mildly _burning_.

He had emerged from the tent and followed the scent to find Noct burning some sort of meat over a very haphazard fire. Why he hadn't opted to use the stove was beyond him, and it smelt like the prince had tried to cook the food with his own magic.

Wordlessly, he'd put his hands on Noct's shoulders and pulled him away from the disaster, dismissing the flames with a wave of his wrist and the command of the Infernian.

"Guide me." He'd said simply, and the pair began to cook as they had at the carnival competition, with Noct steering Ignis' hands safely and Ignis verbally instructing Noct what he needed to reach for.

"Gladio seems to have relaxed a bit." Noct noted, his voice very close to Ignis' right ear as he rested his chin on his shoulder, watching what was being done on the counter in front of the cook.

"I may have had a word." Ignis replied, trying to focus on how it felt to cut vegetables, how far his hands had to be to cut safely, how to pick things up without knocking them out of reach with his fingers. He was getting a little better at it, forming a bit more command rather than relying entirely on Noct's guiding hands. Maybe one day, he would be able to cook entirely sightless, he mused. For, in the last few days, Ignis had come to accept the reality that it was unlikely his eyesight would ever recover, though he had been naively and _despairingly_ hopeful that perhaps it would...

"...Thanks..." Noct mumbled.

"Don't thank me. You're next."

"You're gonna tell me Gladio has a point. That I should pull my head out of my ass and act like a king? Lead on, fight the good fight, be brave like he is and not cry. That I should be a king."

He felt Noctis' hand tighten on his wrist, his jaw stiffen on his shoulder. Ignis sighed, pushing the now-prepared vegetables into the pan.

"No. Whilst Gladio has a point, that point makes sense from his view. It can't, and won't, from yours. You lost someone dear to you, and they gave their life for someone. That is a heavy burden to carry, a burden Gladio knows well and feels he has done a better job at confronting. But, do you suppose he recalls how it broke his heart? How he wept in the early days of that darkness? Or do you suppose he takes comfort in seeing how far he has come, what strength he has learnt to forge from that sadness, the light he now carries to live for everyone he has lost as well as himself?

"Gladio means well. He wants to pull you out of that darkness as quickly as possible, so that you don't wallow in it as he did, and so you can find your light among it faster. Sadly, that cannot be done. You have to experience this sadness, Noct. You have to grieve. You cannot heal a wound before it is formed. You will become king in your own time, lead in your own stride. You cannot force this."

"...Pretty sure the daemons aren't gonna wait around for me to feel better."

"Maybe not. But you'll lose a fight your heart isn't in yet, and the world will pay for your haste. And you forget – you're not the only one fighting for this world. We will fight, for as long as we need to, until you become king in truth. And we fight with _every_ faith that you will become the True King the world needs. In time."

The silence settled over them for a moment, and Ignis felt Noct's hands pull away from his wrists to wrap gently around his torso, his chin tilt to let his face bury into his shoulder instead in an embrace.

"And what if I can't? What if that time never comes? What if I fail everyone?" The words were barely more than a whisper, but Ignis caught each one gently in his hands.

"Then you'll fight with us as Noct. Because, king or no, you would not see this world fall, would you?"

"...No..."

* * *

Settling in for the night, Ignis found himself sitting cross-legged nestled between Noct and Prompto's sleeping bags. The blond had long since fallen asleep, a soft snoring ribboning up to his left ear. Gladio was a little further left, a rumbling breath heralding his own slumber.

But Noct was all but silent.

"...Trouble sleeping?"

"How can you _still_ tell when I'm faking sleeping?" Came the grumbled response. Ignis smiled in the dark.

"I know you too well."

It was a simple truth, but a warming one nonetheless. He heard the man stir in his sleeping bag, sitting up a little and resting on his arms.

"It's freezing out here. The nights aren't just longer now...they're colder."

"I hadn't noticed." Ignis admitted, pinning it up to his abilities.

"Lucky you."

Noct settled back down into his sleeping bag, trying again to sleep. After a few more failed moments drifted by, he rolled over to look up at Ignis.

"Hey Specs?"

"Mmm?"

"...Warm the place up a bit?"

"And risk torching the whole tent? I think not."

He heard Noct sit up again, and could picture the scowl on his face in his mind's eye, formed from memories of witnessing that grumpy look all too often.

"C'mon. You'll be fine. Plus, if I freeze to death, it'll be on you."

"How could I _possibly_ risk that?" Ignis replied dryly, though he did summon a little of his power at Noct's request. His body temperature rose, radiating comforting warmth throughout the tent. He even heard Prompto give a happy little sigh off to his left, snuggling further into his quilt as he did so.

He was about to ask Noct if that was better, when an arm snaked around his own and tugged lightly, pulling the man down on his back with a startled huff.

"Noc—"

The prince had nestled himself against Ignis now, his head resting on his chest and arms looped easily around his waist.

"You're warm. It's cold." Noct stated bluntly, as if this offered all explanation that was needed for the embrace. "Y'got a new duty, Ignis."

"Royal _hot water bottle?_ I feel I may have been _demoted_ then."

He felt Noct nuzzle him a little, clearly appreciating the warmth within the cold.

"Promotion. I'll get you knighted."

" _Sir_ Hot Water Bottle. _Thrilling_."

In the silence that followed, Ignis figured Noct must have dozed off. Lazily, he began threading his fingers through the man's hair, stroking locks from his face as he mused the strange turn of events to himself.

"...You look different..." Noct mumbled, nearly startling Ignis.

"What?" The alarm in his voice was echoed by the alarm he felt at the strange, out-of-field question.

"After you fought the Marlboro...your hair. It's darker. Goes black when you're the Infernian, didn't quite go back to your usual colour when you came back."

"Oh?" How odd, Ignis thought. Since Ifrit relinquishing his title, he had noticed that it felt more like he was transforming from his natural state into something else when _returning_ to his human form these days, rather than shifting from natural to something else when _becoming_ the Infernian. Indeed, it felt like he needed to mildly focus to _maintain_ his human form. He'd thought little of it, but now—

Noct's soft breathing alerted Ignis to his slumber, and he decided against waking him to question it further.

"It is difficult. Maintaining a human form."

Gentiana's voice glided through the tent, though it didn't alarm Ignis. Somehow, he sensed the woman's long-overdue visit before she had spoken. A link between gods, he presumed.

"For you, perhaps. I am human. It shouldn't be difficult."

"You are no longer human at all, Ignis. The last of your humanity burned away when you became the Infernian in full. You have felt this. You don't revert back to your human self anymore...you _conjure_ it, as I do for my earthly form."

Ignis' hand stopped stroking Noct's hair then, the thought of what Gentiana was implying dragging his focus away from the slumbering prince.

"The Infernian is now my true state of being?"

"Humans suffer terribly when presented with a question of their identity. Your mind still very much thinks like a human. No doubt you are trying to cling to it. But yes...that is your true form now. You human form is slipping in accuracy because you're _forgetting_. It appears precisely as you conjure it...and you're forgetting little things. Marks on your skin, scars, the exact shade of your hair colour, the hue of your lips...and sadly, Ignis, you have no way to remind yourself. No reflection to look at."

"Memories will suffice."

"Will they?"

The question burned his heart, dredging out the fear that had been silently present since becoming blind. Would he forget the faces of his friends, the little details of their motions? Would he forget their smiles one day?

"...I remember what I _look_ like." He retorted, anger creeping into his words.

"Do you? Then why is your form so uncanny to your friends? Why is your hair black like the Infernian, Ignis?"

Instinctively, his free hand raked through his hair.

"...Unless you are here to give Noct your blessing, _Shiva_ , I would appreciate it if you took your leave. I am weary, and these riddles are vexing. There's nothing wrong with me. I _am_ human, and I will never forget what it means to be human. I will not abandon my friends, my world, my humanity."

"Noct will receive my blessing in time. But I will agree to ending the _riddles,_ Ignis." He wondered if the sharpness in her tone was born of grief at the loss of the Oracle. "I told you the last of your humanity burns away now that you are one of the Six. Your memories will blur, finer details forgotten, then larger ones...eventually, you will have no choice but to embrace your true form. You will be forced to relinquish everything that makes you _Ignis Scientia_ , and become _Ignis."_

"And live among humans no more."

Ignis ended Gentiana's utterance sharply.

 _What irony_ , he thought to himself, _that I was just telling Noct he would embrace his true identity as king in time...when it seems I will lose my own much the same way..._

He prayed Shiva had left. He hoped his friends were truly asleep. He prayed the darkness cloaked him as a tear escaped and trickled down his right cheekbone.


	15. Chapter 15

Reboarding the train and continuing to Gralea via Tenebrae had been far less tense than their initial boarding. Though not fully healed, the connection between Noctis and Gladiolus seemed to have warmed again somewhat, both perhaps still in disagreement of the other's view, but respecting where the other came from. They had finally both agreed that visiting Tenebrae would at least be worthwhile in terms of figuring out what to do in the absence of an Oracle.

Or perhaps, Ignis thought to himself, they were merely too exhausted to continue fighting each other. The world was against them these days, and that was enough.

"—Do you feel weird about it?"

Ignis snapped out of his thoughts at Prompto's question; he hadn't heard the man come to sit next to him.

"About?"

"...Well, you're technically back in your homeland. Niflheim, right? That was where you were from."

It wasn't accusatory, nor was it dividing, but Ignis still felt discomfort rake through his lungs and he sat up a little straighter, shoulders stiffening. It wasn't something he had openly discussed with the group, nor was it something he took great pains to hide. They simply didn't _ask_ about it, and that seemed to be the consensus of the group. And yet, of the three, Prompto was the one who did ask the odd, rare question about Ignis' origin.

"My home is Lucis." He assured the blond, perhaps a little more stiffly than he had intended, "But...yes, I was born in Niflheim. I left at a very young age, so I do not feel much connection to the land."

"Why'd...why'd you leave?"

Ignis mulled over the question for a moment. It was still one he wrestled with himself. He sighed, settling back in his seat a little more.

"Disagreement. My father was a scientist for the empire. Back then, Niflheim felt it was unfair for one nation, one _king_ , to hold so much more power than anyone else. That that power should be accessible to all. Accessible to them. What started as curiosity became all-out scorn for the Crystal and the line of Kings. They wanted to be able to wield magic as the royal bloodline did. And...what started out as research later became experiments. On _people._ The results were—well, they left an impact on my father than could not be erased."

Silence lingered between them then, before Prompto replied in a hushed tone.

"And...and that research. On how to make people capable of wielding magic. Did—did it ever become something else? Lead to...weapons?"

Ignis' brow furrowed, sensing Prompto's question to be more leading rather than curiosity. Still, he answered for what he knew.

"I'm not sure. My father failed to empower a human with the ability to wield magic. I myself was a part of that research, one of the tests. I could never conjure my own magic, though I learned to wield elemancy _given_ to me from another source without harming myself."

"You mean like how you taught me and Gladio to do that with the spells Noct makes?"

"Exactly."

"You...you learnt how to do that as part of an experiment?"

Ignis noted the sadness in Prompto's voice, and wished to assure the man. He gave a soft smile, bowing his head a little.

"It was a simple experiment, and one I was successful in. I even became able to _sense_ the elements to a degree, and figure out what creatures were weak to which element. Sadly, it never amounted to me being able to weave magic _from_ the elements, and was deemed a failure. Still, silver linings – the fact all three of us can use the spells Noct creates has been quite useful, has it not? And my ability to sense weaknesses in beasts remains, though I regret I was not able to teach you how to do that as well. Bitter experiences can forge some positivity...though it can take time."

He heard a shuffle, and wondered if Prompto had nodded. He had taken to trying to label sounds as best he could, though sometimes it required clarification for Ignis to then log it in his mind and recall it next time he heard the sound. Prompto seemed to notice this concentration, as he replied:

"Oh! Yeah, I nodded, sorry...yeah, you're right though. It sucks your dad would let you get caught up in all that though. What happened in the end? I-If you don't mind my asking."

"He was still researching it when I ran away from Niflheim. I was young, but old enough to understand his research would become a weapon of war. I wished to warn the king...but it came to nothing. As far as I am aware, his work stalled. For the wasted years and empire resources, he paid with his life."

"I-I'm sorry..."

Ignis shook his head. He felt little sorrow, the event feeling like a fairy tale he could simply regale. The truer sense of _family_ had been shown to him, and his father was not a part of that.

"He pursued his own path. I heard tales that his work was ended because a new researcher appeared with better results. Not of magic, but strength. Soldiers, and weapons. I assume it became the MagiTek soldiers the Empire is so fond of."

Prompto nodded again, Ignis picked up on the same sound once more.

"You nodded?" He asked to clarify, smiling a little in hopes he was right.

"Yeah! Woah, that's weird. You're picking these little sounds up pretty fast, Specs."

"Before long, I'll be able to hear you talking about me behind my back." He replied dryly, though the smile lingered on his face, "Only good things, I hope."

Prompto's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Ignis wondered if the three of them had accepted this as a universal sign in place of a smile for Ignis now.

"Dude...you're one of the bravest people I know. If I'm talking behind your back, you bet it's all the good stuff."

"Come now, it wasn't bravery that caused me to flee Niflheim. It was merely the right thing to do."

A swift shuffle, a muffle _gasp_ , and Ignis's head turned sharply to the side where Prompto was sitting. Something had moved, the seat had shifted.

"...Prompto?"

Slowly, he put his hand out, grasping at air. He'd...gone? Odd...what would cause him to leave so suddenly, without a word?

Discomfort stirred in his heart, and the man got to his feet, picking up his cane and making his way through the aisle. Though he had become accustom to the layout of the train during the first half of their trip, he was still a little unsure on his feet when the carriage was in motion.

"Prompto?"

Ignis stopped, cocking his head to the side to listen. His jaw clenched, eyes crumpled a little as he tried to filter out all other sounds, though they were overbearing and _loud_ as always ; several conversations, sipping, crunching, footsteps all over the carriages, the wheels on the tracks, the wind howling outside, laughter, sneezing, a cough, he couldn't hear _anything_ worthwhile.

Growling in frustration, he continued to move through the cabin – then stopped. He listened again.

...Nothing.

Ignis tilted his head one way, then the other – nothing. Not a sound.

Nothing at all. Not even the wind outside, for all the world it felt as though the train had ground to a sudden halt, without lurch or screech to signal its end.

Scowling, he turned, making his way to the engine room.

* * *

"Ignis I...we have to go back! I...Prompto, he's—he fell! He fell off the train, I...I thought he was Ardyn I..."

Between Gladio frantically trying to steer the train and keep it moving, asking Ignis for instructions, and reassuring the rattled prince on the phone, Ignis' face seemed set in a permanent frown.

Prompto's disappearance, the halting train, an attack, the frantic phone call from Noct – everything reeked of Ardyn's interfering, and he was causing precisely the chaos he wished with Noct's mind.

"Noct, _calm down_." Ignis all but commanded, turning away from Gladio, "And _think_. If we stop the train, every single life here falls into the hands of Ardyn and daemons. Right now, you may be fine with that, but I can assure you Prompto would _not_ be. We need to get these people to safety, regroup, and then figure out where to go from there. We must have faith that Prompto is—"

" _Faith_?! I had _faith_ that my father was going to be there when I returned to Insomnia! I had _faith_ that we _would_ return to Insomnia! I had _faith_ that I could reach Luna in time and I had faith that—"

Something snapped in Ignis' heart and, for the first time in a long time, he raised his voice sharply and demanded:

" _Do you have faith in me?!_ "

The phone line rendered silent then, and for a moment, Ignis became worried the prince had dropped the call, or worse, been struck.

"...Have I _ever_ let you down when you have placed your faith in me, Noct?"

"...No." The answer was small, quiet, but _truthful_.

"Then _please_. Have faith when I tell you we _will_ find Prompto. But right now, we _must_ protect these people. Ardyn may very well still be on board, and—"

Ignis stopped as he noted another sound next to him. Trembling...chattering teeth? He turned a little, angling to look where Gladio was working on the train.

"...Has it gotten cold?" He asked, honestly unable to feel a difference himself.

" _Arctic_. Fancy being a generous god, O Fiery One?" Gladio grunted in response, "If I freeze to death, it'll be up to you to steer this train, and that won't end well."

"Noted." Ignis responded, summoning his powers to begin to warm the air about them. He felt the heat from his aura clash against an equally strong, frigid cold aura all around them. He turned his attention back to the phone. "Noct, is she here?"

"Who? Is Gladio okay? You said it got cold?" The prince's concern for Prompto was elevating his concern for all of them, Ignis realised. He was _panicking._

"Gladio is fine. I fear we may well have more than just Ardyn visiting us onboard. Noct, you may wish to come down from the roof."

"He's there?"

"No idea. But another _blessing_ may well be yours soon."

Ignis tapped his phone screen, ending the call and starting to make his way out of the engine room.

"Woah, hey, where are you going?" Gladio's voice rumbled behind him, both annoyed and confused Ignis realised. Even the warrior was losing his cool in this garbled event.

"I won't be long. Don't worry; I shan't leave you in the cold."

He couldn't feel the cold. He couldn't see the ice shards glistening over the windows, drawing swirling, strange patterns in the frost.

He couldn't see his breath plume in white clouds before him, nor note the sharp, fresh blitz of frigid air around him. He didn't see Gentiana's dark hair bleach away to reveal blue-white tresses, nor Ardyn's form shiver to a frozen statue at her touch.

He could, however, hear Noct's teeth chattering, his arms shivering, his breath tightening to a frozen gasp.

He made his way over to the sounds, crouching when he felt he was near the prince and reaching a hand out to search for him. Quickly, desperately, he felt a hand snatch his own, and a body huddled close to him, trembling from the sheer blizzard around him.

"I-I-Ignis." Noct managed to stammer out, as Ignis silently commanded his power to warm him, thawing the frost from Noct's skin. The prince's tremors began to fade to comfort once more, a quiet, relieved sigh answering Ignis' worry.

 ** _"He has my blessing...to protect the friends he holds dear, and avenge the death of the Oracle...he has my blessing."_** Shiva's voice chimed before him.

"Revenge? A dangerous road for one of the Six, so I am told." Ignis replied, facing up to the goddess. "You could kill Ardyn yourself in a _heartbeat_."

 ** _"Could I? Perhaps you ought to question why none of the Six have...including yourself. Infernian, the True King needs only the blessing of Bahamut and Ignis now. A blessing is not so easily given, it must be earned. I would have blessed Noct ten times over by now, but the blessing is not forged until such a time that he proves another trait of the True King. Fearlessness, companionship, empathy...humanity..."_** The emphasis on that word stung Ignis' heart, **_"he has proven these traits. I wonder what it will take to rend your blessing into existence?"_**

Ignis felt Noct regaining his strength beside him, and felt a pang of guilt at being unable to give him his blessing, no matter how much he yearned to. From Shiva's words, it seemed the blessing was not merely forged at the Six's will, but the king's own actions. Was that what was missing?

"Bahamut and Ignis? Sound like a pair of judgmental assholes to me. I'll get their blessings, Shiva. I can't let Luna down." Noct retorted, and Ignis nearly choked on his own breath and his blunt words before the goddess.

"Ever the poet, Your Highness..."

Shiva's appearance had brought more than just her blessing, it seemed, as the trio drove through the night.

The brief visit to Tenebrae, the appearance of Shiva and her blessing, the loss of Prompto, it all seemed to cumulate a spark of determination within Noct. A renewed sense of vigour seemed to grasp the prince, even as he told Gladio and Ignis of his encounter with Ardyn and the loss of his powers as king. Strangely, it seemed to lift the burden within Noct and, fighting with nothing but his own earthly skills, the desperation that would once see Noct collapse into a panicked anxiety over the pressure and expectation regarding his task to save the world now fuelled a will to _prove_ himself. To prove himself as _Noctis_ , and not the True King.

It was rather awe-inspiring, though Ignis inwardly fretted how long it would last. Would the man burn out and fall from the night sky once more?

"He's got Prompto holed up in Gralea." Noct noted as they approached the great fortress.

"Along with a whole hoard of daemons and MTs." Gladio added, nodding over to the welcoming party that seemed to have assembled before them.

"No time to mingle." Noct responded, and Ignis felt the car accelerating. The noise was nearly _unbearable_ to him; stuck as he was in the dark, all he could hear was the screaming engine of the Regalia, the blaster fire overhead, the screeching wheels against tarmac, the howls and roars of daemons. It wasn't until the car lurched and skidded to a halt, near-flinging him out and then being _dragged_ away suddenly by a set of arms that Ignis managed to catch his breath.

"...This is why _I_ would drive." He noted with disdain, giving a sniff and noting the overwhelming scorching scent of burning. " _Please_ tell me you didn't just obliterate the Regalia."

Another set of hands hauled him to his feet and patted off some of the ashes from his jacket in vain. He turned his head to follow the motion, presuming from the height that it was Noct. His response confirmed this.

"Ah, yeah...well, y'know...we got in, didn't we?"

"Noct, I ask you to drive _one time_ , and you managed to blow up the car."

" _And_ drive us into a daemon pit. Ignis never drove us into a daemon pit, Noct. You're the _worst_ driver." Gladio smirked, arriving at Ignis' side. "I think I'd actually feel safer with Iggy driving us blind."

Ignis heard Noct clicking his tongue softly, earning a small smile from the cook. He shrugged and gestured to the smouldering remains of their ride.

"You parked well enough though. We'll be able to find it again in no time."

"Yeah, follow the stench of burning rubber." Gladio added.

Continuing on foot, the trio was forced to duck and dodge and hide. The timing of Noct losing his powers was only accented by how _many_ daemons greeted them. For a while, Ignis had debated shifting to his Infernian form and being done with the lot of them, but quickly quelled the idea. They had no idea where Prompto was, and the chance of Ignis blazing the fortress to the ground was one he wasn't willing to risk.

Perhaps it was this distracted thinking that pulled him away from the matter at hand for a second too long; the next thing he knew, he heard a _crash_ and Gladio calling Noct's name. His heart hammered in panic, and Ignis nearly fell in quickening his step towards the sound. The prince had gone slightly ahead of them to make sure the path was clear to guide Ignis through...if he had been hurt in his scouting on Ignis' behalf, he wasn't sure his soul could take the _guilt_.

"Noct? Gladio? What's going on?" Panic laced through his usually calm tone.

A disgruntled sigh from Gladio signalled the man was standing a little ahead of Ignis, and he turned to face him.

"...Cut off. He's fine, I can hear him on the other side but—he's on his own. We can't follow him here."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

If this labyrinth he'd been lead to was designed to drag Noct's resolve through the darkness, to break his will and force him to question his own true strength without the handouts of his bloodline...it was working.

For the umpteenth time, the angered prince followed the illusion of Prompto to find nothing. Had his powers been to hand, he would have torn the place apart with the Royal Arms, with his swords, with any damn blade that graced him with its presence.

None did.

And when one finally did, it was tainted in the blood of Ravus, another soul to weigh upon his responsibility, and the sorrow of his father. It had taken everything he had to grasp the hilt of that sword and bring it with him. The weight of the Ring of the Lucii seemed to increase as he reclaimed his father's blade.

The sound of Ardyn's mockery all around him, the painful absence of his friends, the terrified thought that Prompto would be the next of his friends to suffer by Ardyn's hand, the fretting of where Ignis was, if Gladio was hurt, were the two of them separated, would Ignis even survive on his own now, would Gladio-?

Noct nearly skidded to a halt, eyes squeezing shut and hands burying in his hair as he tried to purge the darkness from his mind. If anything happened to them...it would be his fault.

His fault...

_No._

The prince _refused_ to allow his own self-wallowing cost him time. No matter how much he wanted to crumble, to hide from it all, his friends were _relying_ on him. They had suffered and struggled and _fought_ for him. He would be damned if he didn't return the favour, even in the face of fear.

" _Oooo_ , is that your _resolved_ expression? Very nice. Very _brave_. So fitting for your _noble_ quest, O King of the Crystal." Ardyn's voice slithered from all around him, reminding him _exactly_ of his position. "It'll look _lovely_ when it shatters from your face..."

As if on cue, the wall before Noct _sparked_ to life. Backing away, he heard the crackle of electricity sound behind him too.

 _Trapped_. He snarled, lip curling. Was this it? Everything Ardyn had built up was simply to _electrocute_ him in some pitiful little trap like this? It didn't make sense, Noct thought, backing away as much as he could from the imposing walls, why lead him all the way here for this?

"...Noct?"

Never in his life had Noctis felt so _elated_ to hear the deep, calming tone of Ignis' voice. Even in concern, the man seemed capable of calming his shivering nerves in a word.

"Ignis? Where are you?" He called back, still trying to avoid his impending shock. The man didn't respond to Noct's question, but he could hear footsteps approaching behind him, and Ignis' command.

"Gladio, there must be a killswitch nearby. Find it!"

"How'd you know—"

"Because I suspect that is _precisely_ why we were brought here."

Noct turned to see the pair of them standing on the other side of the electrified gate, Gladio hunting high and low for the killswitch Ignis had mentioned. The prince got as close as he could to Ignis without sending a few thousand volts through his own body, eyes searching for any harm having befallen his comrades.

"Are you okay? How did you—"

"We're both fine. And we were practically _held by the hand_ to find you here." Ignis replied quickly, noting with relief when the crackling of electricity ended. Gladio had found the killswitch for that, he mused, but sadly, not for Ardyn's speakers it seemed.

" _Ah_ but dear _Ignis_...don't you _always_ need your hand holding these days?" Came a sickly slick response, bringing Ignis' blood to boil.

"You've been kept company." Ignis purred curtly to Noct, his barely veiled distaste for the Chancellor lilting his voice. Noct smirked for it.

"Can't say it was an upgrade. Glad to have you back."

Gladio rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to one foot and folding his arms.

"Right, this is why we need Prompto back. This _third wheel_ gig isn't doing it for me."

Ignis felt his face flush pink, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could _hear_ Noct tensing and no doubt burning the same shade of embarrassment. Evidently, whatever pains they had gone to to mask their...well, whatever it was, Ignis still wasn't sure himself...were wasted.

"I-I meant _both_ of you. Plural _you_. Not—"

Ignis heard Gladio's hand clap on Noct's shoulder, and perhaps he imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard the smile spreading over his face.

"Sure pal. Just glad to see _us_. Right. Gotcha. Not, y'know, in particular _Sir Hot Water Bottle_ over there."

"I—"

Ignis' feet moved before he thought, his usual composure suddenly demonstrating a rare _shattering_ in the face of utter _embarrassment_ as he realised Gladio had heard them that night. He nearly walked straight into the doorframe in his haste to get them moving and to stop talking.

"We'd better get moving before these gates reactivate." He stammered, feeling Noct grab his arm and steer him just in time before colliding with something. "Ah—thank you—well, shall we?"

Gladio's chuckle followed him down the corridor.

"Damn right. Prompto's gonna be so pissed to find out he missed a photo opportunity of a lifetime. _Flustered Ignis._ "

Noct hung back for a moment, letting a small smile ghost over his face as he watched the two men. They were not his bodyguards, just as his father told him, but for the first time, Noct truly appreciated the words that echoed in his memory. They were his friends, his brothers, his _life_. They stood by him, and even in the darkest times in the _worst_ places, they brought him light.

They brought him _hope_.

* * *

He was told the rooms were endlessly similar, and strangely, the lack of sight made Ignis better suited to navigating the labyrinth-like fortress.

"Left here?" Gladio asked as they came to a halt yet again.

"No." Ignis paused too, listening out. "...We've already been in there. Same computers whirring. We need to go right. There's footsteps, MagiTek soldiers we haven't faced yet. I presume that would lead us to Prompto. They must be guarding him."

Noct felt his face fall a little. From what they had gathered from the documents strewn around the abandoned facility, pieced together by Ignis' own knowledge, they had concluded the MTs were not the robotic menace they had once believed.

Humans. Humans warped into daemons artificially, and made into soldiers for the Empire. In the absence of harnessing the power of Kings to wield magic, it seemed Niflheim had been swayed to harness the other side of the story; the Starscourge's parasitic nature turning men into daemons. They had learnt to _artificially_ induce this process. For weaponry. For _power_.

Strangely, Noct felt this was a reflection of himself, another burden of fault upon his soul. He would have given the power of kings ten times over to save these people from this awful fate. And, as the voice of Ardyn had reminded them, they had killed so _many_ MagiTek soldiers.

Every single one of them had once been a human life.

"We must carry their souls with us." Ignis had said upon realising this truth, "Though we know they were in pain, torn asunder from their humanity. That loss would have tormented their every waking moment..." An echo of _understanding_ seemed to flicker through his voice, and Noct felt a worry begin to nag at his mind. Was this to do with Ignis' own concern that he was losing his own humanity in a similar way?

Following the Infernian's uncanny hearing, they eventually found their final missing comrade. Prompto, bound up in a cell, with a strange air of _shame_ wallowing over him. Despite their warm greeting, embracing their friend in relief, the gunslinger remained oddly quiet. It wasn't until they had followed Ignis' hearing once more to the source of Noct's suppressed powers that the blond finally revealed the truth of his discomfort.

"They all have them." He said, raising his wrist to unlock the door to the machinery that bound Noct's strength. "The MTs. These barcodes on their wrist...I...I have it too."

Realisation dawn across Ignis' heart and he stepped forward.

"Your questions on the train...about Niflheim...about me. You were seeking reassurance." He realised too late, and inwardly berated himself for not having picked up on it sooner.

Prompto looked away, unable to meet Ignis' eye even though the man couldn't well see it.

"I...I just figured maybe...y'know, if you were from here too, and could still be considered part of Lucis...maybe I could too?" The question came out meek and small, and for all the world, Ignis wanted to protect that from harm. "But it's different, isn't it? I mean, you were born here sure but...I was... _made_ here. I'm not really like you guys I'm...a weapon. Am I even a real person? I was _made_ to be a weapon, _created_ , a-a _thing_ with a damn _barcode_ to show for it, I'm—"

His words were snuffed out by a sudden embrace from Noct. The blond's startled expression came to view as Noct pulled away, his hands resting on either of Prompto's shoulders.

"When did we _ever_ care where any of us came from? I come from _royalty_ and you still treat me like a jerk."

"To be fair to Prompto, you _are_ a jerk. _Your Highness_." Gladio responded with a smirk.

Prompto looked _stunned_ , not knowing which of the men to look at in utter _shock_. The silence was enough for Ignis to pick up on and read as the blond being startled, and he smiled towards him.

"Sadly, it seems you're stuck with us. Besides, you cannot _hope_ to beat yourself with that stick you seem intent on branding yourself with as a _monster_. Remember, one of your friends summons blades and fire and ice from thin air, and the other one sprouts _horns_ and razes everything to ashes. You'd sadly _lose_ that competition."

"Yeah, and you've heard Gladio snore. You're probably the most human of all of us. Seriously, sounds like something from the pits of hell." Noct complained, jerking a thumb towards the warrior.

Prompto could feel his bottom lip trembling, his eyes welling up, and for the life of him he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees. He hadn't truly expected his friends to reject him...but he had feared it all the same.

Another embrace shocked him, as Ignis put his arm around Prompto and pulled him in.

" _Family_ is what you make of it, Prompto." He said softly into his ear, "If I teach you nothing else, _please_ remember that."

* * *

Their reunion couldn't have come at a better time, nor at a worse one it seemed.

 _Swathes_ of daemons blocked their progress to the Crystal and yet, as Ignis blindly cut down another creature, he couldn't help but wonder _why_. Ardyn had, oddly, seemed intent on leading Noct to the Crystal. Why now would he prevent their progress with the twisted form of the emperor, the reanimated monstrosity of Ravus?

The onslaught seemed never-ending, and above all else, _bizarre._

As Ravus finally fell, released from his torment once more, Ignis felt a renewed anger _burning_ through his blood. To puppet the dead so freely...whatever hope of redemption that may have possible graced Ardyn's soul was long lost to the darkness.

And it made it evermore paramount that Noct reached the Crystal to stop him.

Perhaps Ardyn had simply been toying with them, leading them so boldly to the Crystal in a hopes they would still fail in one of his traps for his amusement. Perhaps his arrogance merely lead them to the failsafes. Perhaps now, at the sight of near-arrival at the Crystal, the man had decided to rain _hell_ down upon them.

"Noct! _Go!_ " Ignis yelled over the sounds of battle, trying to defend himself with his dagger best he could. "You must get to the Crystal! We only have one chance!"

"Iggy's right, this isn't gonna end any time soon." Gladio added, cutting down another daemon and looking over to Noct. "We'll buy you time, just get going!"

"I-" Whatever response Noct was going to give was cut short by the sudden torrent of fire that blasted several incoming daemons away from Noct's path, clearing the way for him to escape. He turned and looked up, seeing Ignis in his Infernian form looming over them. He was kneeling on one knee to fit in the hangar space, flames around him scorching the daemons.

"Ignis—"

Clouded, marred eyes met blue orbs as the Infernian levelled with the king.

**_"Noct...you must go. It will hurt, and it will take great strength, but also great faith. Do you trust us? Your brothers in arms? Do you trust us to hold these creatures at bay for you? Would you expose your back and trust us to defend it?"_ **

Noct looked up at the god, his spirit having resolved this a long time ago, but his heart weeping.

"...To the end." He replied. "I know now... _I am not alone_."

At his words, something _sparked_ to life in the air between them, a cinder that grew into a flame brighter than any the Infernian conjured. It shone in the air for the briefest time, before darting towards Noct and nestling in his chest, disappearing from view.

 _His blessing..._ Noct realised in stunned silence, _Ignis' blessing..._

Before he could relay the triumph to Ignis, the god spoke again in a rumbling command.

**_"Godspeed, Noct...and know..."_ **

The towering titan faltered for a moment, before turning away to form a wall of fire between the oncoming hoard and the king.

**_"...my heart, and my love, goes with you."_ **

Noct's eyes widened, alarmed that Ignis would say something so bold, so _raw_ , before everyone. And yet, the sentiment filled his heart, and a small, sad smile graved his features. The prince turned away, beginning to run towards the open hangar door.

"...I love you too." He replied, though he didn't know if Ignis heard his words.

And _oh_ , how he would _regret_ his fear. How he would wish that he had spoken up, defiant in the face of his fear. How he wished he had _yelled_ the words to know Ignis had heard him, Noct's mind screamed, once the Crystal he had longed to reach, that his friends had given up everything for to pave the way to... _betrayed_ him.

Noct approached the Crystal, the strange, glowing stone finally before him, a promise of his birthright and the end of his quest. He would restore the world, repay his debts to his fallen friends, end the Starscourge and save the world. This was it. It was finally over...the relief that washed over his heart was almost palpable, as he reached out to touch the Crystal's surface.

His hand was immediately locked against the rock, then _dragged_ into its core. The prince fought, twisted, howled, _battled_ to free himself from the Crystal's pull...but to no avail.

The last thing he saw before the Crystal engulfed him was Ardyn's smirking, satisfied face in the wake of his tale, the truth of the royal bloodline that _he_ was a part of. The betrayed healer, cast out from the heavens, wrought his wrath upon the world that shunned him. An immortal being beyond the execution of even the Six.

A man who yearned for both vengeance and _death_ , and the battle between the two concepts twisted into this bizarre game of Ardyn's making. He wished to ruin the world, and at the same time, to be _defeated_. But his arrogance _demanded_ someone worth, in his warped view, to release him of his immortal path.

Yes...the last thing Noct saw as he was dragged from the world was this strange, pitiful creature.

...And the last thing he thought was of Prompto...and Gladio...and Ignis...and a silent prayer in hope that they were still alive...


	17. Chapter 17

_07/17 M.E. 756_

_Dear Noct_

_Noct_

_This isn't even a letter. It's not like I'm sending it anywhere._

_I'm keeping a record for you, Noct. For when you get back._

_I mean...a lot has happened already._

_Right, start again. This is a record for when you get back, Noct. Yeah, I'm writing like I'm talking to you. It's easier that way. I don't really know what I'm doing or whether or not you'll come back but—_

_-no, you **will** come back. I guess I should start by writing what's happened up till now?_

_So. You didn't come back. That happened first._

_We kinda figured something bad had happened 'cause Iggy stopped making sense. Like, before when he spoke in his god-form? We could understand him, like you could. But then, all of a sudden, it just sounded like...well, a totally different language. What sucks is **he** doesn't seem able to understand us anymore either._

_Urgh, he could probably explain this better than me. So, from what we figured, you and Luna connect the human world and the gods. You're like, our means of communication. That got messed up when Luna passed, but you were still around so that connection was still open. When you went...we got shut off. No more gods. 'Cept for Iggy, and...well._

_He's stuck._

_We tried summoning Ramuh. Like, yeah, that's your job, but we used to be able to do it in a pinch even if you were out cold. But the runestone is cold. The Mark of the Archaean doesn't glow anymore. Even Gentiana is gone._

_It's like the door between our worlds slammed shut._

_What's worse is, yeah, we can't understand Ignis. Seems like we only understood him through your power as king, your connection to the gods. Now, we don't get him, and he doesn't understand what we're saying either. He can't shift back either, Noct. He's stuck in his god form. Maybe if he could become human again, he could understand us again, but..._

_Yeah and, well, without his vision, he can't even try writing to communicate with us, and we certainly can't write for him. We tried Braille, you know, marks you can feel on paper? Gladio said he wouldn't be surprised if Ignis had taught himself already after his injury. But no dice. Either he didn't have time to learn, or he really doesn't understand our language whether it's spoken or written in Braille._

_It's weird 'cause...it makes him feel farther away from us? More...Infernian, less...Iggy. I think it's upsetting him too. He must feel so cut off from us all..._

_He can't see us. He can hear us, but it's just noise._

_...Come back soon, Noct. We really need you._

* * *

_10/27 M.E. 756_

_Yeah I suck at keeping a diary._

_Has it really been 3 months? Man, now I have to backpedal and tell you everything that happened. Some record-keeper I am._

_Things are...well, first up, I haven't seen the sun in like, 3 months. Straight up, 3 months of night. Noct, it's cold, it's dark, and frankly, you better get your ass back here before we all turn into vampires or something._

_Seriously, the sun's gonna rise one day and we're all gonna recoil, hissing and spitting and burning and it'll be all your fault._

_So um. Okay, so we kinda ended up gathered at Hammerhead as a base for now? We managed to explain to the people gathered there what was happening. To be honest, they've been pretty great. Everyone's keeping spirits up, everyone is full of hope that this will get better, they just need to stay strong and wait it out. Hell, people stopped freaking out about Ignis once we explained he **wasn't** Ifrit and totally didn't start the Starscourge._

_I think he understood some of that too. He's trying to teach himself our language again, I think. He's got a few words down. "Daemon"._

_"Starscourge"_

_"Noctis"_

_He said that first, actually. Not sure he ever forgot it._

* * *

_01/02 M.E. 757_

_I thought I'd have loads to write for you, Noct._

_But honestly, the days...not even days are they? Everything is blurring into one, long night._

_Fight and survive, really._

_I think people are starting to wane too. Like, hope is a pretty bright burner to start with and everyone gets super-energised for it. But before long, waiting gets boring. People don't like waiting if you don't tell them a solid amount of time. "3 months and it'll all be fixed!" "Just stay strong for a few weeks more!"_

_Only...we can't say that._

_"Stay strong until the king returns."_

_Only...we don't know when you will return._

_It's been 6 months, Noct. 6 **months**._

_Come back already, man..._

* * *

_02/02 M.E. 757_

_We don't know who started the rumour but...it sort of spiralled into hysteria pretty fast. I guess with the way things are right now, people want something to blame. Waiting sucks, there's nothing to **fix** when you're waiting. But when you have something to blame, even if you're wrong, it feels like you have something you can **do** to speed things up, to fix a situation, you know?_

_People wanted something to blame. People wanted something to be able to **do** to fix this nightmare._

_...There was a pretty obvious target._

_Some people have started blaming Ignis. Saying the 'daemon' only appeared when the endless night fell. That he's a bad omen, that he brought the darkness with his arrival. With his appearance, the story sounds grand and terrifying and...well...people are buying it._

_They're saying he's Ifrit reincarnated. Guess they aren't wrong, but they're blaming him for Ifrit's work._

_It's just a stupid rumour, people whispering and getting jumpy around him. I don't think it's bothering him too much. It's not like he's not aware he's like a 20-foot-tall-horn-and-claw kinda guy who breathes fire._

_A few people here knew Ignis before all this. Like, when he looked like us. So, it's pretty easy to quell this kinda crap. Cid doesn't give a rat's ass if Ignis is a god anyway, he keeps yelling at him to "pull his weight" and get chores done._

_Pretty sure that should show people Iggy's nothing to be afraid of, and certainly not a bad guy here. The so-called Bringer of the Endless Night still has to fix the floodlights when Cid yells at him to. I mean, I tried explaining to Cid that Iggy doesn't understand much of what he's saying, but somehow they're getting by._

* * *

_07/22 M.E. 757_

_I know, I know. Big months of a gap again. Worst scribe ever._

_But, stuff happened._

_A lot of stuff._

_Well..sort of **one** stuff, but it caused other stuff and..._

_Woah. Has it really been a whole year already? That...that went by so fast and yet, thinking about it...so much has changed._

_...Iggy's gone._

_That feels weird to write._

* * *

_10/30 M.E. 757_

_I just got back. Two months we've spent looking for him, but he's gone._

_Ignis disappeared. Nah well...not like you. We saw what happened._

_That story? People thinking Ignis brought the endless night? Gained more traction than we realised. People wanted someone to blame, and he was it. It made sense in their mind, looks like a daemon, sounds like a daemon...we tried to explain it to them but...people are scared._

_I'm not angry at them, but...well, even people who'd **met** Ignis before he turned into the Infernian, they started wondering too._

_You can probably see where this is going._

_Folk began to wonder if Ignis could end the night and stop the "curse"._

_He agreed. He's...still not quite fluent, but he managed to tell me he would try and reverse the Starscourge. That if Ifrit created it, perhaps he could undo it with the same power._

_People got impatient. Some people saw what Ignis said as admitting his power caused the Starscourge._

_People thought killing the "monster" would end the darkness, like this is some epic movie or something._

_He didn't wanna fight them. He let them attack, Noct._

_He let them. And then, he fled._

* * *

_12/03 M.E. 757_

_I don't even know why I opened this book._

_I don't know what to write anymore._

_..._

* * *

_08/13 M.E. 758_

_I've decided to travel._

_Waiting isn't fixing anything, and I get you'll come back Noct but...sitting around here, waiting, it isn't gonna make that happen any faster._

_Gladio says I'm being stupid. That the daemons will have me for breakfast out on my own._

_But there's gotta be an answer to this. It can't be all on you, Noct. We can't be so damn defenceless._

_I'm not taking this book with me 'cause...y'know, if I **do** get eaten by daemons, you might come back in the meantime and you're meant to read this._

_I'll leave it with Cindy._

* * *

_0/27 M.E. 760_

_New pen!_

_...Oh my god, I don't write anything for **TWO YEARS** and I start with "new pen"?_

_Ah well, you can't judge me. You've been gone four whole years, dude. You don't get to judge **anyone** for bad timekeeping._

_So yeah. Two years on the road. That was...fuck, has it **really** been two years? Like, at the time it feels like ages, then you come to the end of your journey and look back like "man I'm gonna be dead before I know it, am I_ honestly _24 already?"_

_Gladio's 27. Twenty-seven. Like, nearly 30 already? Dude's getting old._

_I didn't find my answers. I found a lot of daemons...and I swung by some places we went to, back with the old group? Man, we thought those fights were tough back then, they got nothing on the monsters there now._

_Actually...I think I saw Ignis. I might have been imagining things though. It's weird, he's been gone so long but I still hear about him? People talk about the Infernian who brought the night, the terrifying **Ignis,** and sometimes I laugh. Sometimes, I cry. Sometimes, I get angry._

_Sometimes...it feels weird to think of him as Iggy, our friend, anymore. Not in a bad way but...he's been the Infernian for so long in our minds now._

_I feel awful writing that._

_I just wish you'd come back, Noct. You and **Iggy**._

* * *

_01/15 M.E. 761_

_I'm a busy guy and I don't always have time to write. And yeah, every one of these entries is gonna start with a lame-ass excuse as to why I haven't been writing the last few months._

_To be fair, my pen ran out and it took **ages** to get a new one. Bit of a luxury these days! I demand your first act as king to be reinstate the pen factories._

_...do we even have pen factories? Is that even a thing?_

_It totally slipped my mind actually, 'cause it's just normal round here but I realise now it'd blow your mind – Iris? Top notch daemon hunter. Like, seriously. She's terrifying. She uses like, a big ring blade thing? Gladio says it's a chakram. Don't know if I spelt that right...anyway, yeah, she kicks ass. Pulling in serious money and a reputation for getting daemons slain._

_But...she told me she got offered a job from some high-flying member of society (yeah they still exist. Moreso now, given the fat cats before all this had enough money to buy provisions and stuff before shortages started happening)._

_Yeah, she's been offered **big** money. To kill Ignis._

_She's not gonna do it, obviously. She's one of the few who remembers him. But we're going to pretend to go out on a hunt for a few weeks and come back empty handed. Iris says she doesn't care if it puts a mark on her reputation._

_Makes you wonder though. Like...all the daemons we are forced to kill to protect ourselves, they were all someone's friend once. But...it becomes harder when it's someone **you** know. That kinda sucks...I wish there was another way. For everyone._

* * *

_07/21 M.E. 761_

_When I started this diary, I didn't think I'd still be writing it five years later._

_I didn't think I'd still be writing it five months later..._

_...You're not coming back, are you Noct?_

* * *

 

**03/19 M.E. 762**

**Cindy handed me this. Said she found it when clearing out one of the rooms. Clearly, Prompto's writing, but he wouldn't take it back when I gave him it.**

**Had a flick through. Can see why.**

**See, start of this book? Prom mentioned hope energises people, but not for long. After a while, it fizzles out. Gets burnt out, exhausted, nothing to keep it going, no fuel. You gotta fuel hope. Promises of when it'll get better. Promises that hard work will help. Promises that it can be fixed.**

**We ain't got that. And even Prompto's hopes have died.**

**It's not hope anymore. It's just survival.**

**We fucking failed. We failed everyone. The king. The prince. The Oracle. Everyone.**

* * *

_09/04 M.E. 761_

_Okay so Fun-Time Gladio up there is totally banned from writing in the Book of Noct._

_Yeah okay, I had a miserable few months. I got a bit down. But, to be fair, it **has** been pitch black for five years._

_Man._

_No, I'm not gonna do it. The whole "HAS IT REALLY BEEN X AMOUNT OF YEARS?!" even though my brain just imploded on itself. I HAVEN'T SEEN THE SUN IN FIVE YEARS?!_

_Five?!_

_...So, yeah. I'm sort of...remembering what daylight was like. Everything was really bright, wasn't it? The grass looked way greener in the sun than it does now. I mean...the grass hasn't even been green in like, years now. It died ages ago. There's kids here who have never seen grass._

_There's kids here who have never seen the sun._

_There's kids here who only know about the True King as a fairy story they got told before bed to try and make them hope for better days to come. They put you up there with Cinderella, dude. They don't even think you're real. And Ignis is the monster they are scared will kill us all one day._

_You'll sort this all out. But could you hurry up already?_

* * *

_11/25 M.E. 762_

_You'll never guess who I saw today._

_Okay, so, I was out on a hunt with Iris. There's been this really bold group of daemons inching closer to Hammerhead. I think they are, worryingly, getting used to the lights? Anyway, yeah, we went to send them packing and...well, turns out there was a lot more there than we predicted. And more showed up._

_Genuinely, **genuinely** thought I was gonna die._

_Then, fwoosh, outta nowhere, big plume of fire! It was so bright, dude, like, I forgot what that kinda light was like? Once I could see again, there's this towering great big horned guy and for a moment, I nearly wet myself thinking some huge daemon-boss-level-event had kicked off?_

_Ignis! Ignis rocked up and saved our asses! Five years since I last saw him...still, better time than you, Noct. He's...looking well? I think? His horns have gone totally crazy though like, "hermit in a cave" look about them. All overgrown, curled, kinda..._

_...kinda like Ifrit was._

_...Ah man. Now I'm sad. He...he didn't hang around long. Or say much. He seems to have adapted to his lack of sight...or maybe it finally healed properly? I really don't know, he disappeared again so fast._

_Iris thinks I summoned him, but I doubt he heard me. I mean...I thought I was gonna die so maybe I did think something like...help me._

_I don't know._

_I don't really wanna think about it._

* * *

_07/19 M.E. 763_

_Annual diary entry because that's what it's become! Nah, you can probably see the torn pages...yeah, I've tried writing a few times. I've...had a hard few months._

_Feeling pretty low again._

_About you. About Ignis. About Gladio. About everything._

_It's been seven years since you disappeared. That's like...about as long as I knew you for? And longer than the time from when we finally really met each other, to when you disappeared._

_Sometimes, I follow rumours and whispers and find where Ignis is hiding. He moves a lot. We...talk. And then he disappears again. I wonder if I'll find him again soon...or will another year pass me by in a blur? I wish he'd stay put. I wish I could visit him more, he **needs** someone._

_I should...maybe accept that things are never going to be the way they were again. I've spent seven years living in the past, wishing for everything to go back but...if this is my life now, I have to live it._

_For you. For all of us._

_For...me?_

* * *

**01/30 M.E. 764**

**Yeah so I think Prompto has given up on this book. Haven't seen him in a while.**

**Probably a good thing. For him to let go of you.**

**We all**

**I think that**

**You're a fucking bast-**

**...I still think you'll come back.**

**Why am I even writing this?**

* * *

**04/05 M.E. 764**

**Though I saw the sun today. A little beam of light through the clouds.**

**Probably just my imagination.**

**...You always were a jerk.**

* * *

**06/22 M.E. 764**

**Sorry about the torn pages, Prompto. I wrote a bit then...tore it out. It was trash. I was...gonna write all the stuff that's like, normal now. For Noct. Like, the watch routine, cooking food, hunting, how it's literally someone's job now to keep an eye on clocks and keep track of whether it's am or pm, not that it really matters, but so we know how many days have passed and...y'know, growing crops in the night is a new art form.**

**I don't even think the date at the top of this is right.**

**I'm giving this back to Prompto, screw it.**

* * *

  _06/23 M.E. 764_

_Y'know, in another life, Gladio was a poet._

* * *

_12/25 M.E. 764_

_We still have Christmas, but there's not much in the way of gifts. We put Santa hats on stuff, trees and lights. Lights are a big deal. Did I tell you about the cult? Yeah, there's a whole cult dedicated to light. Started a few years back, we didn't think it would turn into a big thing, but hey, it did._

_Oh, and there's a cult of the Infernian too. Weird folk who think the world should end in fire, that we should all accept the apocalypse brought by the mighty Ignis and let the world be cleansed in fire._

_Seriously._

_I mean, I try not to laugh. I shouldn't laugh, it's people's beliefs but...I mean, I actually think of Ignis and Iggy as two separate people. Sadly. Years'll do that to you, I suppose, you just get used to a way of thinking. But the idea of Iggy being the Great Destroyer is pretty hilarious._

_...Ignis doesn't sound like his name anymore. It's like...a title._

_Probably because I haven't said it out loud in ages. Your name is the same. It sounds like a dream, a fable...fake._

_Some days I wonder if I ever actually knew you guys, or just imagined the whole thing._

* * *

_02/07 M.E. 765_

_We do this every year, but it's the first year he's actually greeted us. When did Iggy become such a **jackass**?! Meh, guess he is mimicking you._

_Heh..._

_But yeah, Iris was tracking Ignis yeaaaars ago, back when she was asked to hunt the Infernian down? Oh yeah, people still think that'll solve it, moreso now that no one actually HAS hunted him down and the night goes on. Correlation is causation, amirite? I tried pointing out that I was also still alive and the night went on so it could just as easily be caused by me by that logic but...no one listened._

_Anyway, point is, she knows where he's hiding sometimes. He knows we know, I think. He just can't, or won't, address it. But every year, on his birthday, we leave him a little something at the...door? Well, it's a cave, straight up cave, but...yeah._

_This year, I managed to make this gold ring from all the ore I've found over the last year. Got it forged and stuff, it's kinda pretty. A little...obviously handmade, but yeah. I was worried he'd not find it, y'know, since I wasn't sure if he had his sight back or not (we never did find out if that was permanent did we?) but I put it on a rock by the...doooorway? Caveway? Whatever, and I shouted like I always do, but this time, he actually came out!_

_And hooooooly balls. Dude needs a haircut. And a...horn shaving? Sanding? I don't know what you'd do with them. But I managed to clamber up the rockside and put my hand on his shoulder, you know how we used to to let him know we were sitting next to him or smiling or whatever?_

_It worked. He stayed for a while. He didn't talk much...or at all...and yeah, he is still blind. I had hoped it would heal in years but...nah. We talked, he nodded a bit so I think he understood a bit of what I was saying. I managed to get the gold ring around one of his horns. Told him happy birthday. From what I gather (which was really hard by the way, I don't speak **any** Astral still) he's been secretly hunting down the bigger daemons. Some really huge ones have been skulking about in the last few years, they are thriving in the dark. Glad Ignis has been fighting them for us, or we'd have been overrun by now, I bet. But...he's spent seven years doing this. On his own. Cut off from everyone. I'm kinda worried like...he can't feel...much like...us? If he's on his own like this all the time?_

_He doesn't know if the night has ended, you know. He can't tell. He can't see the night or day, and he can't feel the cold of night so...he has no idea._

_He asked._

_Well, he said "Noct?" so I guess he was asking if you'd come back._

_I had to tell him you hadn't._

_I won't forgive you for that, dude. Unless you come back. Then I'll forgive you. That's fair._

* * *

**_04/19 M.E. 766_ **

**_Wow, Prompto. You're the worst scribe ever._ **

**_10 years and you barely filled a book?_ ** _**What's with all the torn out pages? Looks like half the book is missing.** _

**_...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, guys._ **

**_I didn't mea... I didn't know... I wasn't..._ **

**_...I missed you all. – N_ **


	18. Chapter 18

It was a bizarre sight to say the least.

Nothing, and yet, everything had changed. Hammerhead was just as he remembered, Noct mused as he got out of the truck, but...nothing like it at all. It was quiet, cold, unrelentingly dark even under the vast floodlights that loomed over the area like curious creatures observing the little humans walking about under them. Usually, pulling into Hammerhead relaxed Noct, made him think of rest and good food and company. A familiar pit-stop on his journey.

But that had been ten years ago.

 _Ten_. The idea rattled his mind as he paced through the garage area, looking at the familiar buildings now housing unfamiliar necessities. It didn't feel like ten years to him, which made the whole situation even _more_ uneasy and weighed guilt even heavier upon his heart. If he had known...

The king looked up then, spotting a familiar figure at the door to the diner. Lanky, though more muscular than he remembered, but sporting the same mop of spiky blond hair, Prompto was talking to a dark-haired woman with a lethally cruel looking weapon slung over her back. He seemed to be laughing at something she had said, though he was too far away to make out exactly what. Without realising, Noct's feet began to pull him towards familiarity, and Prompto glanced over at the movement—and his whole face _froze_.

Noct froze too, feeling his heart yank him back as though ice water had been thrown over him.

Guilt? Fear? Shock? What was it that rooted him to the spot?

The moment seemed to last for an eternity, yet it wasn't long enough for the king to answer his own distress.

Prompto nearly _collapsed_ towards him, staggering in his general direction, wide-eyed and frightfully pale.

"N... ** _Noct?_** " He managed to gasp out, as though the air had been duly punched from his lungs. Noct managed to move a few steps forward, and just as well that he did; he had to catch Prompto by the upper arms to stop him falling over in _shock_. The blond grasped at him as he did so, hands clawing at Noct's arms and shoulders, and the king did not pull away. Instead, he felt the sting of tears his eyes, the pressure of weeping building in his throat for all the _horror_ he must have put his friends through began to blaze through the gunslinger. "It...it's...you? Really you? It...no, it can't be...Noct?" Prompto's words tumbled out his mouth in confusion, in sadness, in happiness, in _accusation._

"Prompto...it's me. It's really me. I-I'm so sorry, I didn't—" Before his apologies could reach the distressed man, he had yanked himself back, shaking his head.

"N-no, no no no, this isn't right. You're...you're not Noct. Why would you just...show up now? Now? Why today? Why show up like this?" He held his arms out, gesturing to the nightmare around them, "Hm? Nothing's happened. Something's supposed to _happen_ when Noct comes back. All **_this_** is meant to end. That's the _only thing_ , the **_only thing_** that is keeping us going so...so you don't just get to rock up here now and tell me this is Noct back after _ten damn years."_

Noct recoiled, mouth slightly agape in shock of Prompto's blunt words. He wasn't used to such anger coming from the blond, though he thought sullenly, how much had _he_ changed in a few years, let alone ten? In hindsight, his twenty-year-old self was leagues changed from his eighteen-year-old self a mere two years prior. This was Prompto _ten year_ after he'd last known him...he'd changed so much, and Noct was seeing the sharp contrast rather than the gradual change.

He'd missed so much... _caused_ so much of that change.

"Prompto, it's me, it's really me." He tried to assure him, stepping forward again, "I...the Crystal, it...I didn't _know_ it was gonna do that. I tried to stop it, but—all this crazy stuff, I didn't—how _could_ I have known? I would _never_ have left you guys, let alone for so long, Prompto—c'mon, you _gotta_ believe me." He ended in a near-beg.

The blond regarded him for a moment, face set in steady anger and resentment...but his eyes were glittering with tears, softening in sadness.

Eventually, his face relaxed to sorrow too, and before Noct could react, he'd thrown his arms around him and was weeping openly into his shoulder.

" _Ten years_ , dude... _ten_...I-I thought...I waited, _we_ waited, we were...we were so _sure_ you'd come back but...but then it...it never happened and we thought we had to move on. We never gave up, but we _lost hope_ and that...that's even worse and then you—you just show up and—"

It was all Noct could to do hold him and take the guilt of the damage he'd indirectly caused his friends, the torturous wait of so _horrifyingly_ long.

* * *

The diner wasn't a diner any more so much as a hub for hunters. On Noct's surprise, Prompto nearly laughed.

"Man, I nearly forgot...yeah, this place was a diner ages ago. But needs must, you know?"

The gunslinger had calmed down, for now, though Noct wasn't a fool. No doubt the same shellshocked fear, sadness, and inability to comprehend the sheer amount of _time_ they'd lost would rear up and tear at the scars on Prompto's heart once more. He'd already resolved in his mind that he would address every single one of those woes, to do everything he could to try and heal what wounds he had caused.

"Right...I mean...is Gladio still—?"

"Here? He...doesn't come by so much. He used to years ago, but then he stopped. Got more jobs in Lestallum, he said, but I think he was getting grey hairs watching Iris hunt."

Noct blinked, staring across the once-booth at Prompto.

"Iris...hunts daemons?"

Again, the other man seemed to be taking solace in seeing the funny side of Noct's decade-long absence, for now. He grinned broadly, lazing across his seat with his arms across the back of the chair.

"Yeah dude. A really good one too. But big brother still worries, you know how he is."

It was strange, Noct thought to himself. They were talking like old times but...not like old times. It was almost a _play_ , staged, going through the motions both expected but no longer came naturally or casually.

No one really knew what to say, he realised. So idle chatter was filling in the space. It wasn't _like_ them, so unlike them. For once, Noct really felt the pain Prompto had when Ignis was blinded and the group began to crack under the pressure – the desire for it all to just go back to how it was. Days they took from granted...

"You gonna ask or not?"

Prompto's question snapped Noct out of his reverie, and he looked up at the other man once more. He wasn't smiling any more, but an air of sadness had taken grip in his eyes.

Noct had wanted to ask from the moment he returned, but perhaps fear had frozen his tongue.

"...Where's Ignis?"

Prompto sighed, looking away for a while as if to search for the words to form his answer. He ran a hand through his hair and looked pained, frustrated.

"Man... _ten years_...you want me to tell you _ten years_ of what happened to us, Noct. It's not easy." He said, looking back to the king. "When you left, the light went with you. In every way. And...Iggy got trapped. In his Infernian form. He couldn't get back to his human form, we didn't really know why. Something to do with your covenant, I guess? But it was more than that—"

Prompto began to explain everything; how Ignis had been rendered unable to communicate with anyone in the world, the king's absence locking the world out from its connection with the gods and denying them the ability to understand the language of the Astrals; how the desperation of the people over the years demanded someone to blame, something to hate and fight, how that someone became Ignis; the cults that rose, the belief that slowly became accepted fact that the Infernian was to blame for the endless night, a physical someone to blame rather than the absent king they waited without stability in an answer of how long they would have to wait.

"...Where—is he now?" Noct asked, his voice quaking in spite of his attempt to keep it level. Prompto could see through his act of calm, no doubt, and seemed slightly _annoyed_ by it. It wasn't nearly as well-masked as Prompto seemed to think it was, his warmth towards their cook.

"Nearby, for once. I haven't seen him in a few months, but Iris can track him pretty well. Go talk to her, I'll see if I can't get Gladio to meet us there." He offered, standing up and starting to head out of the hub. "Meet in front of Cindy's in an hour?"

"Errr—"

Noct looked around, then back to Prompto, a little lost. "You err...gonna tell me how you tell the time here now? My phone ran out of battery in the first year...and...y'know...the sun's..."

Prompto smiled, almost pitying the other as he hung by the doorway.

"Right yeah...er, just ask Iris. Probably easier. In a bit!"

The blond left, but then returned with a scowl, peering around the door.

" _Seriously,_ though. _One hour_. Don't make it like, another ten years."

Noct sank lower in his seat, exasperated.

"I'm not gonna get outta that one for a good long time, am I?"

"Least another ten years."

"Screw you..."

The sound of Prompto's laugh heralded his leaving, and the prince took a moment to absorb all he had learnt of the lost decade, before standing up himself and making to leave. It was so strange to him, to think the whole world just _accepted_ as common knowledge that Ignis was a daemon of some kind, some sort of omen of ill. Noct still remembered him so clearly...he was just a man, like any other man...how had the world forgotten and branded him a monster?

 _Is this what Ardyn meant?_ He thought, reflecting on the man's tale told before the Crystal had stolen the prince away, _that the world had made a true monster of him all those years ago? Is that when he lost his humanity?_

As the king wandered out into the night air once more, he felt an arm clap around his back. Startled, he saw a woman appear before him, the same woman Prompto had been talking to when he arrived. It dawned on him who it was.

"Iris?"

The woman beamed at him.

"So you come back to see everything changed, but all you did was grow a scruffy beard? Let down, Noct. Let. Down."

"Ahhh..." The man raised a hand subconsciously to the matted fluff that was scratching across his lower jaw, inwardly wondering at the difference in reactions. Prompto had nearly fallen apart, where Iris was happy to see him. He supposed the difference was in their familiarity; sure, he knew Iris, but he'd spent little time with her. To her, he was likely still a symbol of hope regained, something _to_ be happy to see. To Prompto...he was just Noct. His lost friend. His sadness. His grief.

"Prom already filled me in. You wanna see the Inf—er, Ignis, yeah?" She shifted her weight to her other foot, slinging an arm behind her back to grab hold of the large bladed ring strapped to her back. "It might be tough getting there. You still got some fight in you, I hope?"

With a flick of his wrist, the king summoned his sword, not out of flamboyance, but to reassure himself that he still _could_.

"Lead the way."

* * *

 _Perilous_ was an understatement. Where daemons had once spawned at night, they now _crawled_ in the dark, with areas without the creatures a rarity. Noct was exhausted by the time they reached the maw of the cave, nowhere _near_ Noct's understanding of the word _nearby_ in comparison to Prompto's understanding of it.

The gunslinger clapped a hand on Noct's back as the king was doubled over catching his breath.

"What's the matter? Out of shape, Noct?" He asked.

"...Not...even slightly..." He panted back, making an effort to straighten up and turn to look at the cave entrance. He pulled a face, peering inside. It was cold, damp, dank, and decidedly _not_ Ignis. "He...really lives in these kinds of places?"

"Yeah...to be honest, he doesn't stay in this one long, tends to move closer to the coast. I figured it was nicer there, but to be honest, I think he—" Prompto trailed off, looking awkwardly away and rubbing the back of his head, "—well...y'know, last time we saw you was across the sea so...I figured maybe he was waiting."

The thought tore at Noct's heart and he began to walk inside the cave, hoping the further gloom of the cave would mask the tears threatening at the edges of his eyes.

"Woah, Noct!—"

Prompto lunged forward to grab one hand, Iris the other, both in panicked unison.

"Wha—"

"You can't just _walk in_." Iris explained, "He's not one for a warm welcome. If you startle him, he'll run away."

"What? Why?" Noct asked, utterly confused. Before either of them could respond, footsteps _pounded_ in their direction. The king managed to look around just in time to hear a familiar, gruff voice growl:

"I'll tell you _why_ , Prince _Noctis._ "

A fist **crashed** into Noct's jaw then with enough force to knock him out of Prompto and Iris' grip and sending him sprawling onto the ground. The wind was knocked right out of him, and it was only by the graces of the gods he managed to open his eyes to see the newcomer – now held back by Prompto _and_ Iris, Gladiolus stood before him, anger _blazing_ over his face.

"Let go of me! He's got a _lot_ of explaining to do!"

"People explain stuff better when they _don't_ get their jaw broken, Big Guy!" Prompto retorted, pulling at Gladio's arm that he was wrapped around in some attempt to protect Noct. "Besides, if Ignis heard—"

As if on cue, a _roar_ of crackling fire thundered the ground around them, an echoing roar from deep within the cave.

Noct scrambled to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his jaw in favour of watching a now-still Gladio and Prompto's heads snap to the cave entrance.

"...We're...in front of _Ignis'_ lair?" Gladio asked, not in fear but begrudgingly.

"Probably shoulda cleared that first _before_ socking Noct." Prompto half-smirked, " _Preeeetty_ sure his covenant with Noct still stands so...he probably felt that."

"He's probably pissed." Iris added, letting go of Gladio then looking thoughtful, "Although...Ignis isn't really the type to get pissed about stuff."

"I dunno, there was that year I got him a fake goatee for his birthday. Dude, he could have _rocked_ the Satan look." Prompto offered to Iris, and she shook her head in despair of the memory.

Noct elected to ignore the banter that was blossoming between the friends he felt so severed from, blue eyes fixed upon the cave entrance. In deceptive silence compared to his stature, the towering form of the Infernian emerged from the shadows, hands grasping the edges of the cave's maw as he stooped to walk out. Noct's heart hammered in his chest as Ignis' face came into view; like so much here, it was as he remembered, yet not. Though his features remained the same, down to the starburst-scarring on his left side and the milky, sightless right eye, scars dotted across his eyebrow and nose and lip, the years were more noticeable on Ignis' form. His horns, once short and spiked like a crown on his head, had overgrown and curled and tangled upon themselves. A mane of hair, not quite as long as Ifrit's before him, disappeared around this tangle of horns, though the front remained somewhat spiked up in his usual fashion, it was in dire need of trimming down.

A few adornments glittered across his horns, trinkets he'd been given by his friends no doubt. Noct recalled the diary Prompto had left him to read, a story about one such birthday where the blond had fashioned a gold ring for the Infernian. He could see it now, nestled on one of his horns, as his head tilted this way and that to pick up on sounds.

Shock shivered over the titan's face, and Noct realised the glaring difference between what his return meant to Gladio and Prompto, and what it meant to Ignis.

"...Hey Specs..." He offered meekly by means of greeting, and instantly regretting it. It sounded too casual, too uncaring, gods, what was he _supposed_ to say? "I-I mean...do I still call you that? You're kinda...de-specced...right now..."

Ignis' head twitched so fast in response to Noct's voice, and the king heard the audible gasp betray his lips.

**_"I...understood you...? It—it can't be..."_ **

The Infernian's voice _rasped,_ and Noct's heart sunk as he realised it was likely through lack of use, the stark reaction to his voice from having spent a _decade_ without conversation, without contact.

Ignis knelt down then, as if conscious of his height over them, his face still tilted towards where Noct stood.

**_"...Is it...truly you, Noct?"_ **

A thousand apologies, and many more pleas for forgiveness sprang to Noct's mind and heart, and for all the world, he didn't know what to say. If it wasn't out of some sort of sense of _necessity_ to gift words to the deprived god, Noct was sure he would have faltered.

"Y-Yeah...it's me, Ignis. I'm back...I'm—I'm sorry it took so long, I—" Everything felt like an excuse on his tongue, and he felt shame cling to his prospective words. Instead, he opted to do what felt natural; he warped silently up the cave side until he was level enough to reach out and place a hand on Ignis' shoulder, the brothers' shared gesture to Ignis. "I came back for you. For all of you."

Surprisingly, he saw Ignis give a sad smile, though he seemed to recoil a little from Noct's touch, a decade of fear embroiled in his bones that spurred self-protection from the world that had demonized him, a threat that he would be left alone once again causing him to fear allowing himself company once more. Noct's heart pained at the sight, and moreso at the sight of Ignis fighting the instinct to flee in order to save the king's feelings.

**_"...My heart went with you, Noct. I fear I no longer know what to do now it has returned..."_ **


	19. Chapter 19

_Perilous_ was an understatement. Where daemons had once spawned at night, they now _crawled_ in the dark, with areas without the creatures a rarity. Noct was exhausted by the time they reached the maw of the cave, nowhere _near_ Noct's understanding of the word _nearby_ in comparison to Prompto's understanding of it.

The gunslinger clapped a hand on Noct's back as the king was doubled over catching his breath.

"What's the matter? Out of shape, Noct?" He asked.

"...Not...even slightly..." He panted back, making an effort to straighten up and turn to look at the cave entrance. He pulled a face, peering inside. It was cold, damp, dank, and decidedly _not_ Ignis. "He...really lives in these kinds of places?"

"Yeah...to be honest, he doesn't stay in this one long, tends to move closer to the coast. I figured it was nicer there, but to be honest, I think he—" Prompto trailed off, looking awkwardly away and rubbing the back of his head, "—well...y'know, last time we saw you was across the sea so...I figured maybe he was waiting."

The thought tore at Noct's heart and he began to walk inside the cave, hoping the further gloom of the cave would mask the tears threatening at the edges of his eyes.

"Woah, Noct!—"

Prompto lunged forward to grab one hand, Iris the other, both in panicked unison.

"Wha—"

"You can't just _walk in_." Iris explained, "He's not one for a warm welcome. If you startle him, he'll run away."

"What? Why?" Noct asked, utterly confused. Before either of them could respond, footsteps _pounded_ in their direction. The king managed to look around just in time to hear a familiar, gruff voice growl:

"I'll tell you _why_ , Prince _Noctis._ "

A fist **crashed** into Noct's jaw then with enough force to knock him out of Prompto and Iris' grip and sending him sprawling onto the ground. The wind was knocked right out of him, and it was only by the graces of the gods he managed to open his eyes to see the newcomer – now held back by Prompto _and_ Iris, Gladiolus stood before him, anger _blazing_ over his face.

"Let go of me! He's got a _lot_ of explaining to do!"

"People explain stuff better when they _don't_ get their jaw broken, Big Guy!" Prompto retorted, pulling at Gladio's arm that he was wrapped around in some attempt to protect Noct. "Besides, if Ignis heard—"

As if on cue, a _roar_ of crackling fire thundered the ground around them, an echoing roar from deep within the cave.

Noct scrambled to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his jaw in favour of watching a now-still Gladio and Prompto's heads snap to the cave entrance.

"...We're...in front of _Ignis'_ lair?" Gladio asked, not in fear but begrudgingly.

"Probably shoulda cleared that first _before_ socking Noct." Prompto half-smirked, " _Preeeetty_ sure his covenant with Noct still stands so...he probably felt that."

"He's probably pissed." Iris added, letting go of Gladio then looking thoughtful, "Although...Ignis isn't really the type to get pissed about stuff."

"I dunno, there was that year I got him a fake goatee for his birthday. Dude, he could have _rocked_ the Satan look." Prompto offered to Iris, and she shook her head in despair of the memory.

Noct elected to ignore the banter that was blossoming between the friends he felt so severed from, blue eyes fixed upon the cave entrance. In deceptive silence compared to his stature, the towering form of the Infernian emerged from the shadows, hands grasping the edges of the cave's maw as he stooped to walk out. Noct's heart hammered in his chest as Ignis' face came into view; like so much here, it was as he remembered, yet not. Though his features remained the same, down to the starburst-scarring on his left side and the milky, sightless right eye, scars dotted across his eyebrow and nose and lip, the years were more noticeable on Ignis' form. His horns, once short and spiked like a crown on his head, had overgrown and curled and tangled upon themselves. A mane of hair, not quite as long as Ifrit's before him, disappeared around this tangle of horns, though the front remained somewhat spiked up in his usual fashion, it was in dire need of trimming down.

A few adornments glittered across his horns, trinkets he'd been given by his friends no doubt. Noct recalled the diary Prompto had left him to read, a story about one such birthday where the blond had fashioned a gold ring for the Infernian. He could see it now, nestled on one of his horns, as his head tilted this way and that to pick up on sounds.

Shock shivered over the titan's face, and Noct realised the glaring difference between what his return meant to Gladio and Prompto, and what it meant to Ignis.

"...Hey Specs..." He offered meekly by means of greeting, and instantly regretting it. It sounded too casual, too uncaring, gods, what was he _supposed_ to say? "I-I mean...do I still call you that? You're kinda...de-specced...right now..."

Ignis' head twitched so fast in response to Noct's voice, and the king heard the audible gasp betray his lips.

**_"I...understood you...? It—it can't be..."_ **

The Infernian's voice _rasped,_ and Noct's heart sunk as he realised it was likely through lack of use, the stark reaction to his voice from having spent a _decade_ without conversation, without contact.

Ignis knelt down then, as if conscious of his height over them, his face still tilted towards where Noct stood.

**_"...Is it...truly you, Noct?"_ **

A thousand apologies, and many more pleas for forgiveness sprang to Noct's mind and heart, and for all the world, he didn't know what to say. If it wasn't out of some sort of sense of _necessity_ to gift words to the deprived god, Noct was sure he would have faltered.

"Y-Yeah...it's me, Ignis. I'm back...I'm—I'm sorry it took so long, I—" Everything felt like an excuse on his tongue, and he felt shame cling to his prospective words. Instead, he opted to do what felt natural; he warped silently up the cave side until he was level enough to reach out and place a hand on Ignis' shoulder, the brothers' shared gesture to Ignis. "I came back for you. For all of you."

Surprisingly, he saw Ignis give a sad smile, though he seemed to recoil a little from Noct's touch, a decade of fear embroiled in his bones that spurred self-protection from the world that had demonized him, a threat that he would be left alone once again causing him to fear allowing himself company once more. Noct's heart pained at the sight, and moreso at the sight of Ignis fighting the instinct to flee in order to save the king's feelings.

**_"...My heart went with you, Noct. I fear I no longer know what to do now it has returned..."_ **

* * *

"You think they're arguing in there?"

Gladio was standing against the wall of the mouth of the cave, one leg folded up to place his foot flat behind him. His arms were folded, and he looked up at Prompto's question.

"Don't think Ignis is gonna kick off that he didn't leave a note, given the circumstances." He replied gruffly. Prompto mused over this, sitting as he was a short distance from the warrior, hands out behind him for support as he looked up at the starless sky.

"Yeah but...it's what people do when they've been separated for ages, isn't it? They go through all the emotions; happy, sad, angry, then sad again."

Gladio frowned over at the blond.

"One, when did you become a relationship counsellor. Two, _what?_ You seriously think those two are—"

Prompt felt his heart twist again, and his head dropped away from viewing the night sky down to the dead grass under him. Iris noted the expression, and stepped between Gladio and Prompto.

"Gladdy, you have the emotional empathy of a _custard_ , you know that?" She berated him, one hand on her hip. "It's pretty clear that Ignis and Noc—Oh!"

Her eyes flicked over Gladio's shoulder, and then widened in shock. Frowning, Gladio turned to follow her eyeline, Prompto leaning to see too, then scrambling up to his feet.

" _Woah!_ Is—is that...?"

Noct and Ignis emerged from the cave, the king's hand placed lightly on Ignis' back between his shoulder blades, more out of habit than necessity as it seemed the man had little trouble navigating the darkness of his lack of sight.

The cook nodded at his friends, bowing a little as he did so.

"Apologies for the visual _blast from the past_ , as it were. It seems I needed a little reminding on how to return to my human form." He noted swiftly, before being attacked by a sudden projectile in the form of Prompto. The blond hugs Ignis so quickly and so tightly the man nearly instinctively burst _flames_ around him, and only managed to catch himself at the last second in recognising the action was one of affection, not concern. The habits of a decade would take some time to forget, Ignis thought, as he hugged Prompto back.

"You...you were missed, dude. N-not that you weren't always Ignis, you were, but...can't really hug a guy 15 feet taller than you, you know?" Prompto was trying to jest, but Ignis could hear his voice strangled with unbroken sobs. "A-and it sucked we couldn't even _talk_ and...and I'm sorry we didn't visit more and—"

"I missed you too, Prompto." Ignis cut him off with a half-smile, "And, in your defence, I was hardly the amiable of hosts."

Gladio had pushed himself off of the wall then, and headed over to the group, clapping a hand over Ignis' shoulder to relate his own, more reserved happiness at his friend's return, one that was returned with a smile and curt nod.

"Guess I can retract one of the punches I owe Noct for him helping you out there, Iggy." He smirked over to the king.

"I came back to save the world, and I honestly feel so attacked right now." Noct retorted in a deadpan voice, mock-glowering at Gladio. The man flashed a grin at the king's response.

"Speaking of...what's our next move? Can't help but notice the sun's not back." He said, jerking a thumb up to the sky.

"A king isn't returned in earnest until he returns to his castle." Ignis noted with some difficulty, trying to peel Prompto's chokehold-grip from his torso, only to be foiled by the blond tightening his grip and mumbling " _No!_ " from where his face was currently buried in Ignis' neck. The man gave up for the moment, and twisted awkwardly in his position to angle towards Gladio as he answered: "Noct needs to return to Insomnia and reclaim his throne, and the Crystal. He shall have to confront Ardyn, who no doubt is holding both to ransom...but once he does, the True King will have returned in truth and the Crystal will respond to his power. The ring has gathered the power of all the kings of old...and with the rise of the True King, it will finally have the power it needs to give unto the Crystal and purge the world of darkness."

Gladio shifted his weight, folding his arms again and scowling a little.

"Oh, just all that then?"

Noct stepped forward, nodding at Ignis' explanation. Inwardly, he wondered if the man knew of the truth of what becoming the True King really meant...adding Noct's own lifeforce to join the other kings' lifeforces within the ring...to finally gain enough power through the collected lives of the kings to awaken the Crystal's full power against the darkness.

He didn't have the heart to break this awful truth to his friends just yet. Instead, he set his face with determination.

"We head to Insomnia. We reclaim our land from Ardyn."

"Indeed..." Ignis agreed, coldly, "I would have _words_ with him..."


	20. Chapter 20

The group made their way steadily, on foot, towards the fallen city of ruin in the distance. The silence that hung around them was palpable, and Noct felt pressure growing in his chest as he fought with both the demand to speak and the fear of making reality too raw with his words.

_They need to know...there will never be a good time to tell them..._

"I—" His voice faltered already, and he sighed in aggravation, bringing one free hand up to rub against the stubble that had formed on his chin. Alas, the noise had been enough to bring the attention of Prompto, Gladio, Iris, and Ignis to him, and suddenly, the carefully-rehearsed and selected words that he'd pained over the last few hours to string together shattered and scattered to dust in his mouth. "—we...should make camp. Insomnia's not far now, no sense rushing in unprepared."

"Camp? ...Jeez, it's been a while...you'll make me tear up for nostalgia, dude." Prompto mused aloud, and though the comment was made in jest, Noct could see a little tearing up already brimming at the edges of his eyes.

"Bet you won't be so emotional when you're shivering in your sleeping bag in the tent, complaining that we coulda gotten warm beds at a hotel somewhere." Noct retorted as they began to make their way to the side of the road and into the fields to find a suitable high ground to camp on.

"He might have a point," Iris noted, looking around without much fear, but concern lighting her eyes, "Camping isn't what it used to be, Noct. There's a lot more daemons these days, and they're pretty bold. Without the floodlights at Hammerhead, we can't really ward them off. One of us will have to keep watch through the night."

"I may be able to help with both issues." Ignis interjected, a curt nod accenting his words as he adjusted the visor Gladio had gotten him, "Warmth and light are something of my area of expertise."

The king turned to address his advisor then, a slight surprise raising his brow.

"You sure? You always seemed reluctant to use your powers in—" _The past_ , he wanted to say, and then realised the foolishness of his words. Ignis had spent the last ten years trapped in his Infernian form, his humanity already mostly decayed as a result of his transformation. No doubt he no longer felt the need to avoid using the flames of the Infernian, and likely spent time learning to hone his command of them. Indeed, he seemed to confirm this with a smile:

"Times change." He spoke the words kindly in spite of their raw honesty, placing a hand on Noct's shoulder, "As much as your brooding may thrive on the idea that the last decade was utterly dire, there _were_ some positives to be wrought from it."

* * *

The group sat in their usual circle of folding chairs despite no campfire burning at the centre. But no cold air troubled them, for a burning barrier of flame cast a wide, protective circle around their camp, keeping the daemons are bay and warmth through the night. Presently, it crackled low and comforting in the background, flaring to life only in warning if a daemon strayed too close, and causing the creatures to recoil away into the night once more.

"I'm not _saying_ you coulda learnt how to do this ages ago," Prompto said, pointing an accusing fork at Ignis, "But you _totally could have learnt this ages ago and kept us warm._ "

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing." Ignis replied smoothly, a smirk curling his lip lightly, "Though, I seem to recall dabbling with these powers as a human caused quite the sickness in me. I fear you may have gone mad trying to keep the damned compress on my forehead..."

Prompto frowned over at him, his bottom lip jutting out a little.

"It woulda been _way easier_ if you'd stopped _throwing it about in your sleep_."

The exchange brought a ring of laughter to Iris, who had heard this tale so many times over the years from Prompto. The pair frequently hunted together, and the blond found comfort in telling her the tales of the old Kingsguard group and their journey with Noct. Indeed, the tales brought her comfort too, and hope that truly Noct would return in years to come.

A faith that had been tested to the limit, but not broken. Not quite.

The thought brought her eyes to Noct then, the silent king who had contributed little to the conversation since sitting down. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, a private sorrow that he seemed reluctant to share rather than determined to shoulder all on his own. Her smile faded at the sight, and she glanced back down to the plate in her lap.

As if sensing her observation and resulting sadness, the king spoke.

"...So...I guess you guys don't really know...what happened with the Crystal?"

All attention fell to the king once more, and he inwardly recoiled. He'd started now, and he was committed to his path of accepting he was not alone. To share his burden...and yet, the idea was so alien to him, and so difficult when the burden was so painful. Had he not caused these friends enough pain? And yet, he found it in him to continue, eyes fixed on the dead grass at his feet.

"The day I reached the Crystal, I...discovered the truth of it too. Of Ardyn and the gods...of the Starscourge and the daemons...and...and of the duty of the True King."

He relayed everything he had reflected upon in the decade leading to this moment; of the fallen King of Lucis, a healer who had sought to cure the world on his own in the absence of the True King, only to absorb so much of the dark burden on his own soul that it corrupted him into the very thing he had sought to destroy; the plight of the Six, who seemingly could do little to halt the Starscourge other than offer humanity a way to destroy it one day, a prophecy and a ring that would collect power slowly over generations in the form of the lives of the kings who wore it; that one day, the ring would finally gather enough power to unleash the Crystal's full might upon the Starscourge and finally destroy the darkness...

...Of the last, vital piece required for the ring to do so...

"... _me_. The True King doesn't just channel the Crystal's energy he...he contributes to it. The last drop it needs in the ocean of kings' lives it has gathered. I...for my soul to give power to the Crystal...to destroy the darkness...I...I have to..."

Tears bound words to silence and he gritted his teeth against it. He would not weep. He would not fall apart. He had no right to, not in front of them, not in front of—

The grass under him trembled a little, and Noct realised tears were cascading down his nose and falling to the ground below him.

"...I've made my peace...it-it's my duty. So many have given _everything_ for me, so...so I have to give everything for so many. And-and I'm fine with that. Proud, even. But..."

He managed, with all the power in his heart, to lift his head and look his friends in the eye, weakness and fears and all.

"...But the thought of leave you all... _again_...for...for good?" His voice cracked, betraying him, "It's...it's almost too much...and I—"

A rough arm grasped around his shoulder then and hauled him in an embrace. To his surprise, it was Gladio who had responded first, near-pulling the king out of his seat and into a hug.

"I'm not gonna tell you it doesn't suck. I'm not gonna tell you this is fair. I'm not gonna tell you about your responsibility. _Nothing_ like this should be your responsibility." Gladio noted gruffly, and Noct could swear he heard tears, "But I will tell you this: you're _not_ leaving us again. Not now, not ever. You're living on. Right **_here_** _._ " With his free hand, he slammed a fist into his own chest over his heart, "You're gonna stay _right there_ with us until we join you in the Beyond too. You got that? None of this _all alone_ shit from you."

"G-Gladio..."

Noct had no idea what to say. It was all he could to do fumble with the words offered to him by the usually defensive and tough-hearted warrior. In contrast, Prompto nearly flung himself on Noct's other side, both arms around the king and Gladio.

"He's right! I-I mean...I-I think I might just...y'know...ignore the bit where you're gonna... _go_...'cause I-I-I still haven't _quite_ grasped that you're back s-so...so yeah...but...we're right here. Right at your side, always." Unlike Gladio, he made no attempt to mask his tears, and Noct could feel the poor man trembling as fear and loss rattled his already fragile mind.

A motion at his feet saw Iris arriving, sitting herself down silently at his side by his feet and resting against his chair a little. She looked out, gaze fixed forward, face set in stone.

"...It doesn't seem fair, does it?" She observed flatly, "The Starscourge was a punishment for our ancestors, an act of a vengeful god who couldn't be, or _wasn't_ , prevented by the other gods. Even if he was right or wrong...those ancestors of ours paid the price. But we're still paying for it... _have_ paid for it...over generations and eons...we had nothing to do with the catalyst, but we're being burned by it all the same. Paying a debt we never caused. Why?"

No answer was truly asked for nor needed, and they fell amidst silence once more. Slowly, Noct disentangled himself from Prompto and Gladio, eyes already finding Ignis' empty chair.

"He..."

Iris answered before Noct could finish his sentence – she pointed out to the west, where the flames that defended them seemed to have waned a little. Prompto followed her gesture, eyes trailing sadness as he did so.

"S'like him now...for all effort he made to convince _you_ you're not alone...Iggy ended up being convinced of it himself eventually. He's dealt with pretty much everything on his own the last few years...can't really call him a hypocrite..."

Noct followed the path and, without flinching or asking, he walked straight through the flames. Somehow he knew they would not burn him, and through the rush of heat he broke through to the other side and continued to walk through the night.

He found him eventually, sitting straight-backed and facing out across the hillside. Quietly, the king sat next to his advisor and looked out over the scene Ignis could not see.

"...You didn't know that bit, huh."

"...Ifrit's revenge has demanded so many lives. I shouldn't be surprised. And yet..."

Ignis's eye, sightless though it was, narrowed as thoughts pestered him. Noct could see his battle barely flickering over his stoic features, little twitches and calls he had learnt to read of his face so long ago. "...What _sense_ does it make?"

For a moment, the raven-haired man assumed the other to be speaking emotionally, but Ignis turned to face him, and continued:

"What _sense_ does it make, for the Starscourge to still continue? It has bothered me for some time now...but now that the price for its closure is ever-steepened, it is so _stark_ in my mind! What _sense does it make_? Ifrit caused the Starscourge to seek revenge on the humans who turned on the gods, who killed the original Shiva. But we defeated him. Not only that, but he _accepted_ the strength of a human. Surely the Starscourge should have ended with this acceptance, however reluctant he may have been, he still _chose to let go and move on_. He _chose_ to bequeath his title to me and _let go_ of what was keeping him bound to this world. _Revenge._ The Starscourge _embodied_ his revenge; why did it not end then?"

Noct was a little taken aback by Ignis' sudden onslaught of thought and blinked.

"Errr...I...I don't know. Maybe he...couldn't end it? Started something that spiralled out of his control?"

"Perhaps..." Ignis trailed away then, turning to face back out across the night sky, "...perhaps not."

"Ignis..." Noct placed a hand on his shoulder then, wondering if the man was falling apart before his eyes and building some defence of logic to try and hide it. "Not everything has a reason you can find. You can't protect me from everything, Ignis, so please—"

He faltered, before leaning against the man, head resting on his shoulder. "—please. Just for now...can we just let ourselves grieve? As Ignis and Noct? Because tomorrow...tomorrow we face it all, one last time. The darkness, the daemons, Ardyn...everything our friends and family died for, to get us here, to defeat it...tomorrow, we face it as King and Kingsguard."

After a moment, Noct felt Ignis rest his own head lightly on top of his, and he could swear he felt a teardrop trickle onto his forehead.

* * *

Until they stood before the fallen king himself, everything felt weighted with pure _motions_. Going through the actions one must do to protect the king, to reach the throne, and for the love of everything, _not_ to think of what would happen when Noctis finally reclaimed his kingdom.

Until they stood before the light turned to darkness, a smirking villain masquerading under a king's crown, everything had felt sluggish and numb to Ignis, as though he were fighting under a thick veil. He simply _couldn't_ allow his heart to scream; he knew the logic of it. The one to save the many, the one to save everyone, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to grab Noct's shoulder, turn him around and flee from this dreadful ruin of a city. He had refrained, instead falling back onto a question he'd asked in times gone by:

"How do you wish to proceed?"

"Easy. Attack."

Ignis allowed himself a small, sad smile as a human memory echoed in his mind.

"...I'll circle around then."

The advisor slipped away to the shadows before the group reached the stairs leading up towards the citadel, out of sight of the approaching false-king.

Ardyn greeted the remainder of the group with open arms, the machinations of his own play now finally coming to a stupendous final act. Ardyn seemed utterly incapable for truly grasping what exactly he wanted; for Noct to succeed or fail, or perhaps, Ignis wondered, it simply didn't _matter_ to the mad royal. Perhaps the outcome would render the same to him either way, his revenge upon the Lucian bloodline complete in either ending.

If Noct failed, Ardyn would kill him.

If Noct succeeded, the Crystal would kill him.

Either way, Ardyn lost nothing he did not willingly give to fuel his revenge.

" _Welcome_ _home,_ Your Majesty!" Ardyn's voice purred through the air with all the feline satisfaction they had come to expect from him, "You have been _sorely_ missed. Ah, but what's this?" The man's arms dropped a little, golden eyes scanning across the group. " _Ohhhh..."_ His lips pursed in disappointment, almost a pout, and he paced from left to right slowly as if searching. "Say it isn't so! Did you leave poor Ignis behind? Or did he get lost wandering around after you?"

Noct cocked his head to the side, a half-smile curling his lip, before gesturing behind Ardyn.

"Ask him yourself."

The air around them _surged_ with heat and, with mild surprise barely gracing his features, Ardyn turned to face the glowering form of the Infernian behind him, horns twisting up to the skies like spires, a single, glazed ruby half-glowing behind a clouded eye. The violet-haired man visibly sighed and shrugged, before casting his lazy gaze towards Ignis.

"Admittedly, I was _cruel_ to you." He lamented, mockery oozing across his words. "Perhaps you wish to take an eye for an eye?"

Ignis seemed to consider this a moment, before moving his head a little to face more towards Noct, then back to Ardyn.

**_"...Revenge would gain me nothing, and I am not going to ignore the lessons of my predecessor."_ **

Ardyn flashed a grin up to the god, and made a great show of bowing.

"Well _well_...I am so _humbled_ to have your forgiveness, Infernian..."

**_"Do not mistake my integrity for forgiveness. Whatever wrong was done unto you, whatever betrayal you faced...you may well have been in a position to deserve forgiveness once, Ardyn, but you have long since forsaken that."_ **

The once-king straightened up a little then, casting an amber-eyes gaze up to Ignis from under his brow.

"Just as well I have never sought _forgiveness_ from your kind, then, isn't it?" He snarled around a smile, before stepping back to face Noct once more, turning his back boldly to the Infernian. "Not when _humiliation_ is a far sweeter gift...you see, your little _plight_ all those years ago dusted off another secret of the Lucian bloodline. I would never have thought to look into it had your friend not had his brush with Ifrit...the _concordat_ is a strange thing, isn't it?"

In a flash, Gladio summoned his greatsword to hand and lunged at Ardyn, casting Noct a hurried exclamation.

_"He's gonna bind Ignis!"_

The warrior leapt, striking down with his blade on the defenceless Ardyn – only for his blade to strike steel and spark brightly. Whatever force had blocked Gladio threw the man bodily backwards down the stairs into a crumpled heap at Noct's feet.

"Just in time, my friend! ...However did you _know_...?" Ardyn's voice sounded from behind a perfect defense – a towering form clad in gold and azure plating, a dragon's visage etched over its design, great wings of swords spanning so wide a single wingspan engulfed even Ignis.

Noct's teeth ground so tightly together they could have shattered under the pressure.

" _Bahamut._ "

The eyes of the god rose up to meet the King's, shackled through his gaze was in despair.

**_"...Forgive me, Noctis."_ **

With those strangled words, Bahamut rose, summoning his one blade to his hand and standing between Ardyn and the True King, in defence of the embodiment of the daemon scourge.

 


	21. Chapter 21

The sight of Bahamut was enough to strike one to awe in normal circumstances, but the vision of the dragoon-armoured god _defending_ Ardyn knocked the air from Noct's lungs. He reeled back a little, teeth clenched, fists tightening at his sides.

"He formed a concordat with _you_? How? That's not—" Noct wanted to say it wasn't possible, but evidently it was. Still, as far as he understood the covenants and concordats, the king must be before the god in question either way. There was no chance Ardyn had accomplished that with Bahamut, not with the god's existence having been anchored primarily within the Crystal that rejected the fallen king.

Reading Noct's face like some invigorating tale, Ardyn loped to the side of Bahamut, coming into view from behind the shield of a god. As lazily as his gait carried him, so too did his grin ever-grace his expression, never quite reaching his eyes. His head tilted to the side, giving Noct a patronising, knowing look.

"Sometimes, the _old_ ways are the best. Though I must admit, I thought your dear _Gladio_ had rather foiled this little plan of mine long ago." Ardyn explained, gesturing with an open palm to the man who was getting to his feet in the wake of his failed attack. "You see, the name eluded me, for it wasn't called a _concordat_ in my time...the idea of a king summoning a god as a _command_ seems to have been a bastardised form of another branch of summoning, one used specifically against _me_...

"As you now know, Noct, I was once a Lucian King. The covenant of the Six went with me, but the Crystal rejected me all the same. I told you before of my jealous kin of a future king, not yet chosen by the Crystal, who sought to turn the world against me that he might step into the light? Ah, but how _does_ one fight against a man who can summon the gods?"

The man paced forward now, casting a scathing glance to the enchained Bahamut. There was nothing short of _poison_ in the glance, and it was not softened by the Cheshire Cat smile.

"Well, he could not _break_ the covenant, nor would I allow the gods to sever our covenant. So instead, the would-be king and Bahamut conspired against me. A loophole, as it were...a _mark_. The man was given three pieces of gold, enchanted by Bahamut himself. Whomever he gave the gold to would be _marked_ , and a god would be forcibly summoned regardless of their prior oaths, to confront whoever was marked should they endanger the giver of the coin. I'm sure you can see where this is going..." Ardyn purred, rolling his wrist in a flippant gesture, as though he were discussing nothing more pressing than the weather. "One such coin was given to me by my betrayer as a gesture of feigned goodwill, and upon my later engagement with him, and one such god was summoned against me. Alas, bitter irony saw Ifrit summoned, and he was rather displeased. The battle went in my favour and, as a result, I claimed the remaining two pieces of gold for myself, and my dear Judas was forced to find other ways to plot my downfall."

The man's fingers curled into loose knuckles then, and from nowhere, a single gold coin rolled down the length of his hand in a flourish. "Where oh _where_ could that second coin be, I wonder?"

Gladio's eyes went wide then in recollection of a fragment from long ago; standing on the pier, awaiting a ship, the strange man who threw a coin at Noct, his catching it, the man branding it nothing more than an _allowance_...

"You marked me."

" _You_ got in the way of my intended target. A failsafe, should I need it. I suppose you're wondering what heaven-sent luck I have to see Bahamut summoned in response rather than one of the other Six but, I must confess..." A flash of teeth bore little of a smile and more of a growl, "...The influence of _daemons_ within me has granted me a few tricks. Enchantments can be altered is so _many_ ways...how ironic, that Bahamut's own deception against the king would one day evolve to become the act of concordat that his kind so _loath_. I wonder which of my successors found out about this little summoning path and twisted it to the concordat we know today-?"

The man trailed off again, drumming his fingers against his chin in a display of thought. He then shrugged, casting the issue away.

"It is of no consequence now. It seems Bahamut finally faces a consequence to his _meddling_."

With that, Ardyn traded a slow wave of farewell to Noct, wandering towards the citadel doors unchallenged.

The king summoned his sword and made to strike after him, only to be blocked by Bahamut's blade. Noct leapt away, and nearly found himself greeted by the god's off-hand blade. Before he could react, a smaller gold had appeared at his flank and deflected the blow with twin daggers wreathed in flame. The two landed in unison, regrouping with Prompto and Gladio.

"We're... _seriously_ gonna battle that guy?!" The blond asked, gaping up at the sorrow-clad eyes of Bahamut, though the god readied his blade all the same.

 ** _"Until his task is complete, he cannot leave."_** Ignis reminded the gunslinger, **_"We fight or we die."_**

"I'm not sure I like those odds." Prompto admitted, twirling a gun in his hand, "I'd settle for _fight or maimed badly_?"

Ignis offered him a smile, looking down at the human.

**_"I'll see what I can do."_ **

With that, the Infernian was gone again, leaping up to meet Bahamut's blades in a flurry of his own. At all sides, the god was rained upon by bullets and blades, Gladio's roars and Noct's cries, Prompto's whistling and Ignis' whirlwind of daggers.

"No fair. Dude's got armour for _days_." Prompto panted as he backed away from his most recent attempt to attack the god. The Infernian landed in front of Prompto, shielding him from another attack.

 ** _"Then perhaps it is time we wore our own."_** He said, **_"Fight fire with fire, if it is not so arrogant of me to say it."_**

Prompto scowled at him, bottom lip jutting out.

"Like, is it a _requirement_ of the Six to talk in riddles?"

**_"...Back pocket. Suggest the same to Gladio too."_ **

With that, Ignis was off again, keeping Bahamut busy as Prompto acted on his advice. He scampered aside out of harm's way, then shoved his hand in his back pocket. A small, smooth stone was nestled there and, bringing it to his eyeline, the blond was confused. A decade-cold trinket of his friendship with Noct, the runestone of Ramuh.

"Wadda you expect me to do with this, chuck it at him?!" Prompto yelled at Ignis as he passed him once more in the heat of battle.

 ** _"Summon. Him!"_** Ignis grunted, fighting off Bahamut with Noct in tow, the king looking as confused as Prompto felt.

"That's his job!" He pointed out, casting a look to Noct. "I-I can't...I'm nothing special, I can't summon _gods_ , I—"

**_"You summoned me. Once, long ago, you summoned me to aid you and Iris. If my theory is correct, the True King is not merely blessed with power of his own, but extended to his comrades. For a true king is not alone...or am I wrong, Noct?"_ **

Noct's face relaxed with understanding and, with a smirk, he cast a look to the fighting Infernian.

"You're not wrong...Prompto! Do it!" He channelled his power through the runestone then and the dormant rune glowed to life in the startled blond's hand. "My power is right there with you. I trust you to do this."

"Aw man, c'mon, if I mess this up—" Prompto's voice, however, lacked his usual self-reproach, and a glimmer of a smile seemed to echo on his face as he squeezed his hand around the runestone. "Ramuh! The king needs you!"

The skies above darkened, a swirling black mass overhead even bringing Bahamut to a halt to gaze above him. Sensing the god's arrival and with it, his chance, Ignis made his way to the newly-summoned thunder god, a blaze of ruby against a towering shock of sapphire.

**_"We bear the True King's burden together. Will you honour this?"_ **

For a moment, it seemed as though the god may well leave, for he did no reply to the Infernian's question and a brief flicker of distaste heralded from the days of Ifrit coloured his eyes. But then, silently, Ramuh nodded—and conjured to hand a great lightning bolt and aimed directly for Prompto.

" _Woah!_ What the hell are you-!"

Before the startled gunslinger's concerns could be voiced, he was engulfed in a blinding crackling bolt of light.

When the light cleared, Prompto stood unharmed, curled a little with his arms shielding his head. Slowly, he unfurled, and looked down at his hands. Dancing across his palms were little static bolts of blue, harmless and numerous, jumping and leaping across his skin.

 ** _"The True King's blessing extends to you. Just this once...my faith would be in a human over Bahamut."_** Ramuh's voice thundered above, his pain at forsaking his kin evident in his tone, but understanding the stakes in place forcing his hand. **_"The king's trust, and my lightning, are yours for this battle."_**

 ** _"Fight fire with fire."_** Ignis reiterated as he landed by Prompto's side once more. **_"Or, more accurately, gods with gods."_**

"Did...did you just...temp-god me?" Prompto stammered, looking up at Ignis, "Awww, I don't get the cool voice or extra few feet in height?"

 ** _"The price is rather steeper and rather not worth it."_** Ignis assured him with a smile, **_"Noct can only summon one god at a time, for the strain of channelling a god's power is astronomical. But this way, we can channel more gods to this fight through ourselves. Now fight, Prompto!"_**

Flashing a brilliant grin to Ignis, Prompto summoned his guns with a flourish emblazoned with lightning.

"Oh yeah, I could get used to this." He smirked, firing rapid rounds of pure electric energy straight at Bahamut. The pseudo-bullets dealt far more damage than his usual ones did, the energy piercing and glancing on his amour, tearing through the metal plating.

Noct had barely turned to Gladio when the man held up his hand, the mark of the Titan already between his index and middle finger.

"Oh you bet I'm not getting left out." Gladio smirked.

* * *

Even for Bahamut, the combined strength of the True King, the Infernian, and two channelled powers of the gods proved too much for him. In a final fury of the royal arms raining down upon him, the god was brought to one knee, blade buried at his side and held onto for support.

Head bowed, the god knelt before Noct.

**_"...End it. The world must be purged of darkness...and I have no choice now but to try and prevent that. It is against my nature...please...free me from this command."_ **

"Perhaps you could do some _good_ to atone for your sins before you leave."

The sharp tone of Ignis heralded the man's return to his human form, and he walked to Noct's side with more than a few cuts and bruises marring him. "Your demands for lives to end the Starscourge is nothing short of _tyranny_. Your Crystal houses the souls of countless Lucian Kings, yet you would demand more yet before the darkness would be purged. What debt could we possibly owe to the gods to warrant this eons-long repayment?"

The sudden challenge to the god raised Bahamut's eyes once more, shocked mixed with anger flashing through blue orbs.

**_"...The Starscourge was of Ifrit's making. It was not for us to dictate the strength of light required to destroy it."_ **

"But it _was_ you would wrote the prophecy of kings and Oracles." Ignis retorted, standing his ground, "It was you who dictated the lives of Lucian Kings would serve as the energy for that light to one day destroy the darkness."

A rumbling growl rolled from deep within Bahamut's chest, no doubt wrought from the god's displeasure at being confronted in such a manner.

**_"Ifrit betrayed the Six, and we did not agree with many of his beliefs...but we were not blind to humanity's sin. Your kind did indeed turn your backs, and slaughtered one of our own for power. Though Ifrit betrayed us all in his revenge, this we were agreed upon."_ **

"So _your_ revenge of demanding sacrifices like the gods of old in order to raise your hand and dismiss the darkness is just, but Ifrit's was not? No revenge is _just_ , Bahamut...and over time, I believe you've come to _regret_ your wrath, so you colour it as _prophecy._ The kings did not need to die, you merely made it so, demanded a blood price in exchange for your aid. Humanity has been repaying a debt for our ancestors thousands of years prior to us! If you wished revenge on those who killed Shiva, it has already been paid. They are long dead – but perhaps that revenge brought you little satisfaction. Perhaps that is why your _prophecy_ of debt continues. The Starscourge has spiralled out of control because of _your_ wrath."

A silence weighed heavily in the air then. Noct was staring at Ignis' defiant expression, realising now all that had burned through his mind the night that he had told the group of the price that must be paid to end the Starscourge. Ignis was...confronting the _gods_ to try and find a way, a _reason_ for the madness that engulfed the world and demanded life in payment when humanity had long forgotten the debt it owed. Before he could speak, the god's voice thundered once more, guilt threading his words.

**_"...If I wrote the prophecy in wrath, it changes nothing now. I cannot reforge it. It must be fulfilled. The True King must give up everything if this world is worth saving."_ **

As he spoke, his form began to fade, breaking slowly apart into glimmering specks of stardust that rose up unto the heavens.

**_"But...perhaps I can alter one thing. The command of Ardyn would fall on deaf ears if I no longer existed to follow them."_ **

The realisation of what Bahamut was doing, before his very eyes, brought Noct a step forward.

"Wh-what...Bahamut, you're—"

**" _I never thought I would be proven a fool by the Infernian. Our Six was one twisted by wrath, just as humans were twisted by greed. Perhaps...we are a mark of times gone by, holding back progress in our ignorance of it. Perhaps...it is time for the light to lead itself."_**

His form had faded before his voice did, the sorrowful words still floating around them as the group slowly walked up to the doors of the citadel once more, weighted once more with grief.

**_"...Shiva...sister...do you wait for me still?"_ **


	22. Chapter 22

There was an awful sadness in witnessing a god's lament, Noctis thought, as the group made their way through the Citadel. Though Bahamut may have come to regret his wrath that would bequeath a debt upon humanity for eons, he couldn't help but feel perhaps Bahamut had given up too soon. Perhaps the god could have found a way to reroute this prophecy.

Perhaps Noct merely feared his coming death and wished Bahamut _had_ found a way to change it.

Though the king was long at peace with the idea that his demise was required for the sake of the world, the man was as fearful of death as he ought to be.

He didn't want to leave his friends behind, not when he had just rejoined them.

He didn't want to leave the world behind, one that he had only just begun to explore.

He didn't want to abandon Luna, whose death weighed on his heart, whose life he had hoped to live for too.

The ruminations and fears scattered as blue eyes fell upon the lounging man draped across the throne, framed by a macabre choice of decorations.

"Off my chair, jester. The king sits there." Noct commanded with more confidence than he truly felt.

The reply from Ardyn was nothing short of his usual arrogant drawl, something Noct had come to expect from the man. And yet, his words wrought little pain, little frustration now that the king knew the truth. Instead, they seemed hollow...almost pitiful.

It seemed the fallen king realised this, for he discarded his words for action – with a flippant wave of his hand, three bolts of dark energy quickly snuffed the consciousness from his friends behind him before any of them had time to react.

 _The king must fight the jester alone_ , Noct mused to himself, not fearing for his friends. They were alive...he could sense it. And if he could fell the mad daemon before him, they would live in a peaceful world once more.

And so...Noctis followed Ardyn to the courtyard below...

* * *

He was not surprised by his ancestor's ability to warp as he did, but the sight of Ardyn's own mirrored image of the Royal Arms struck him.

_Was he meant to be-?_

He didn't have time to wonder at this, and he paid for his hesitation, as a crash of red-lit blades flurried around him. Noct blocked the onslaught as best he could, though he lost his focus and fell from the skies, Ardyn cascading after him like a blood-trailed comet.

 _No!_ Would this be it? Would he fail in such a _trivial_ manner, a second's pause costing him everything up unto this point?

The hard ground below never greeted him, for the king's back struck a sudden, but safe landing, caught by one of the gods sworn to protect him. The one god who had needed no convincing, Ignis had broken Noct's fall and set him down in safety. Whirling about, Noct found the kneeling form of the Infernian, blank gaze set towards Ardyn.

"How did-?"

His question was cut off by a loud, tearing laughter through the night air, as Ardyn came to stand before the Infernian with arms spread wide.

" _Et ignis in noctis, ad dirigendos!_ How poetic..." His words trailed to a low growl, head bowing to view the god with a glare, "But even a _new_ god such as yourself must know the prophecy? The kings fight. You have no business here...unless you wish for Noct's struggles to be for nought?"

Ignis made to rise once more, but stopped as though shocked. Turning a little to tilt his face down to Noct, the king could see confusion spreading over the man's scarred face.

**_"...You wish to fight alone?"_ **

The words seemed more pained than quizzical, but Noct nodded all the same.

"I'll fight as the prophecy demands, to save our world. I don't fight alone though, Ignis. I never have. Just...watch my back, okay?"

He offered the latter with a small smile and a hand that reached out to graze against the Infernian's – the warmth of the bronze-hued skin brought him some level of comfort. It wasn't reflected back at Ignis, it seemed, for the god remained summoned but sat back among the glowing images of the kings of yore, a cross-legged guardian among the star-wrought spirits, blind to a battle he could not sway to the victory he prayed for.

 ** _"I suppose...I cannot guard you from all the unfairness the world may bring to you, Noct...as much as I wish to. You have my word – I shall not interfere. So long as the fight remains honourable..."_** The last word was _slung_ without mercy in Ardyn's direction, though it glanced off his impenetrable hide forged of millennia in the dark.

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

The fight waged on, blurs of light in the dark, blade striking blade, and yet, Noct could not help but sense the fight was fought only on his side. Ardyn did not seem _completely_ there, his eyes a blank and hollow gaze that mismatched his perpetual smile. He could have killed him on numerous occasions, but strikes were misaligned, or too slow, or too widely sweeping.

It almost shivered Noct's heart when he realised: the man _wanted_ to lose. Though the daemons that corrupted the man's soul demanded he fight, demanded the life of the True King, though that same darkness warped Ardyn's desire for revenge into wishing the same...some little flicker of light within all that murk whispered _let me die..._

So when the final, crucial blow struck the man down, it wasn't in shock that Noct heard him say:

"So...this is how you would end it..."

He wondered, however, if this was the first time he had truly been spoken to by _Ardyn_ , and not the darkness that consumed him so entirely.

"And what would you do now? Erase me from history once more?"

Was that...a note of _fear_ in the man's voice? Or acceptance of his fate?

"No."

Noct saw, for the first time, a brief flicker of _light_ grace the man's amber eyes, more life wrought into his features in near-death than he had ever seen upon Ardyn's face before. "This time...you can rest in peace.

If Ardyn was appeased by these words, the darkness was not. He smirked, the light faded once more, and he muttered.

"I shall await you...in the Beyond."

...Of course, Ardyn Lucis Caelum passed from this world...with a smile ghosting his lips that did not reach now-forever blank eyes...

* * *

The Kingsguard stood before the True King, each wearing a mask of duty to hide their sorrow. Unspoken, each of them knew what was to come...and not one of them wanted to be the one to voice it, to shatter the masks and rend the pleaded and tears that would no doubt bring to bear if they should.

And so, they stood, they offered brief words, as many as they could before their voices _shook_ and threatened to break them, and were offered two in return:

" _Walk tall_."

The True King did not yet sit upon the throne, and the daemons yet dragged themselves from the dark. They needed to buy him _time_.

It wasn't a farewell, not really...or at least, that was what each of them told themselves as they turned away from the king to face the daemons, to keep them from reaching the throne room.

"...Bet I can kill more daemons than a god can." Gladio offered with a half-semblance of confidence, a false smirk not quite covering his grief. Still, Ignis grasped the words and responded, in hopes of inspiring some sort of confidence in their team.

"Bold words...sha ** _ll we begin?"_** He responded in a light tone that morphed into the rich language of the gods as he took on his Infernian form.

Prompto merely nodded sharply, his jaw locked as though he feared if words spilled, his tears would follow not long after.

They _charged_ into the swathes of daemons and monsters – greatsword hacking through claws and flesh; flames and daggers flaying hide and boiling skin; bullets piercing and shattering bones. And for a good while, they seemed to have the upper hand, with wave after wave of daemon falling to the last Kingsguard.

 _C'mon Noct..._ Gladio thought inwardly, noting the sky was still dark, _get it—_

His thought was cut short as a large ogre-like daemon charged headlong at him, one cruel and terrible motion piercing a twisted horn through the warrior's side. Eyes widened, a cold shattered through his body, and the creature tossed the man away like nothing worth keeping...

...Gladio landed heavily upon the ground, blood spreading out in a pool beneath him. He vaguely heard Prompto screaming for him to get up, and he _tried_ , gods he _tried_...trembling arms under him trying to hoist himself back to his feet, failing, slamming down upon the ground and tasting iron in his mouth...

 _-I'll never...know... **no**..._ The terrifying thought gave way to warmth as Gladio's eyes grew heavy, dragging shut.

_...I know he'll succeed. Noct...will..._

* * *

It felt as though the world was falling apart around him, the very air shattering like glass, the sky itself bearing down heavily overhead.

His hands shook, bullets fired quicker, _panicked_ , though his heart hammered and he tried to keep his cool, Prompto could feel fear choking his throat.

 _Gladio...Gladio's..._ Prompto couldn't bear to look back at the fallen friend, he couldn't give truth in sight to what he knew had happened. _He didn't...didn't get to see the light, the light, the sun, I just wanna see the sun..._

A cry erupted from his mouth then, clenched teeth finally tearing away, tears splashing down his face as he fought with every fibre of his _sorrow_. What kind of cruel fate took a man who fought his whole life, waited for the king, waited for the light once more, and snuffed him out before he could see that victory? A man who lived to fight, denied his victory? Why—

He noticed too late the sigil burning into the ground under him.

These flames were not the Infernian's.

They scorched upwards in a perfect column, engulfing Prompto. His skin seared and burned, he could _feel_ the skin crawling from his bones, the roaring _deafening_ his ears and for all the world, he could not feel the pain he knew should be there.

The flames subsided and he dropped to his knees, and fell on his side, blue eyes wide, still housing tears.

He could see Ignis, see his mouth move, did he say his name? He couldn't hear him...not any more...he couldn't hear much of anything except the panicking frenzy in his head.

_Oh god, oh god, no, no no, nonono...no...please, I just wanted to see the sun again, I just wanted to see light again, please...please, I just wanted my friends, my frie-..._

* * *

The Infernian did not fall pleading for the light. It had long since left him.

The Infernian did not fall in fear their victory was not to come. He believed wholeheartedly, perhaps _foolishly_ , in their king.

The Infernian did not fall, with hordes of daemons clambering over him, tearing at his skin and piercing myriad swords and blades into his back, wondering if they had failed.

Ignis fell with one prayer in his mind.

_Noct...find us..._

* * *

 

 

Iris waited.

Though she had longed to join the fight in the citadel, that idea had been quickly snuffed out. Not in question of her skill, rather, in praise of it.

_If we fail...one of us has to cut through the daemons alone between here and Hammerhead. Someone's gotta warn them. It's gotta be you._

And so, she waited...until something burst across the horizon and made her flinch, arcing an arm over his eyes to shield against it. What was—

-in awe, her eyes slowly adjusted as she realised what was painting its way across the land.

_Sunlight._

She beamed, a laugh burst forth from her heart and she scrambled to her feet and turned to face the citadel. She could see daemons falling, burning to ashes under the sun's judgement...and she waited. Iris craned her neck, waited, looked, waited, the smile still on her face. Surely they would be arriving back soon.

She waited.

And waited.

She nearly panicked as the hours passed and the sun began to set, for a moment worried it would never rise again, that perhaps whatever victory the guys had achieved had been short lived.

She waited until the sun rose _again_...only this time, it did not rise to glow across her smiling face...but a woman who had long since fallen to her knees and wept in the truth brought _awfully_ to light...

...No one was going to walk back through the gates to the city.


End file.
